the wolf will still blow the paper house down

With the prod and step of the trotting rain As the closing credits of summer's stay She's grieving her heartstrings and their copper's fraying Like what fifty years did to tame the river thames She'll tiptoe past her bedtime to the worn corner Test her drawer's hinges, peek over her shoulder Harboring the guilt that the sun gathers When it rests each winter sunset hours earlier And he'll behold her by the dust motes With an ache in tow He's always wincing past her shoulder at the letters she dotes She tells him Maybe I will never hold her But i'll never watch her go If for the rest of my life I pretend She wrote these A day ago So every night or so she'll kneel by her lamp Knees neatly folded as a prayer's stance Drawer open palm letters through weathered hands Till he chides her Sweetheart you're not still digging through that So he'd behold her by the lamp's glow With a heart hung low She says You're always troubled by my shoulder But you pass too slow I've got to stack a paper house And use the ink to make a home By reading for the rest of my life like she wrote these A day ago And he replies with With I've never damned the tears you're shedding Rivers were always meant to flow And children build forts as safe playthings But don't mistake it for a home You've always been your mother's daughter Shuddering when even the moon's alone So I hope it helped the healing That our daughter was born A day ago