The story behind this song
The nightlight still turns its moon and stars across the ceiling. The yellow blanket — the favorite one — stays folded on the chair, and the small socks are still in the top drawer, not ready to be moved. There were four notes hummed every night until the breathing slowed, and the house still knows them.
There's no explaining a loss like this, and no pretending it's okay. There's only one small thing left to do: finish the lullaby that got interrupted, so the love has somewhere to go.
For the parent still singing those four notes, who won't ever be done.
Lyrics
I never got to the last verse
I came to sing it now
Your blanket's folded on the chair — the yellow one, your favorite
I used to hum the same four notes until your breathing slowed
The house still knows that song
But this was never about time
So close your eyes, wherever you are, and let me sing it through
You are loved past all the edges of the words I know
Sleep now, sleep now
The song was always yours
Bath soap and warm cotton — it finds me out of nowhere
Small socks in the top drawer I'm not ready to move
There's no way to make this right; there's only making room
I'll just keep the music on
So close your eyes, wherever you are, and let me sing it through
You are loved past all the edges of the words I know
Sleep now, sleep now
The song was always yours
I'll say — someone small, who rearranged the world
Four notes, every night
I'm not done singing them
I won't ever be done
So close your eyes, wherever you are, and let me sing it through
You are loved past all the edges of the words I know
Sleep now, sleep now
The song was always yours
The last verse is yours to keep
Goodnight. Goodnight.
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