Burning in Laurel Pines

We carved our names in the old church pew. Summer heat and a sky so blue.

Mama said, "Girl, don't chase a storm." But I was wild and you were warm.

Your hand in mine, like a hem that stayed. But Sunday came and you slipped

away. And I left my heart in Laurel Pines, where the wind still whispers your goodbye.

That gravel road, it knows my cries, and the stars don't shine like they did that night.

A love like fire, now buried in time. But I still burn in Laurel Pines. You took that job

in another town, left your boots and your Bible on the ground. I wear your flannel

like a ghost that clings, and I talk to the trees like they know things.