White Ribbon, Old Tree

You tied that white ribbon, around the old tree.

You said, "If it's still hanging you can come back to me".

Now I'm rolling past mile signs, coffee gone cold. Counting my chances like cracks in

the road. White ribbon, around the old tree. Tell me you

remember, tell me you still believe. If it's still waving in that

small town breeze, then there's still a place, for a fool like me.

Oh. Your daddy's red mailbox, leaning down hill. Rust on the

flag, but the porch light still fills. I slow at the corner,