He walks the gravel path alone
His trench coat heavy as a stone
The workshop roof wears rust and rot
Weeds knot the hinges tight and taut
Trench coat tides roll through the yard
Salt stains the fabric bleached and starred
The compass needle finds its north
A quiet storm breaks forth
Oil stains bloom where engines slept
He kneels where metal secrets kept
A broken wrench lies in the grass
Like bones beneath the looking glass
Trench coat tides roll through the yard
Salt stains the fabric bleached and starred
The compass needle finds its north
A quiet storm breaks forth
The lantern glass he used to clean
Now reflects a ghostly sheen
He traces grooves in wooden beam
Where initials carved a silent dream
Trench coat tides roll through the yard
Salt stains the fabric bleached and starred
The compass needle finds its north
A quiet storm breaks forth
The tide turns slow at sixty-five
No siren calls no bells alive
Just brass and weed and leather worn
A case file closed a soul reborn
He buttons up against the chill
The workshop stands a sentinel still
The backyard yields its final clue
Salt water runs in copper hue
Trench coat tides roll through the yard
Salt stains the fabric bleached and starred
The compass needle finds its north
A quiet storm breaks forth
Piano fades like fog at dawn
Brushes stir and then are gone
