Terry Champlin

The cracks on your pavement face
	Melting in the time
The persistence of our hiding place
	The rhythm of our rhyme
Clatter of the endless race
	Ring of distant chimes

These are the things
	I sing
These are the things
	I sing to you

Flowers on the city street
	Light upon the stairs
The places that we used to meet
	The tables and the chairs
Sentences we don’t complete
	That song we heard somewhere

These are the things
	I bring
These are the things
	I bring to you

From places that we’ve been
	To places that we’ve seen
Moments that we’re living in 
	To moments in between
We glow like dawning day
	Flow into night’s darker stream

These are the things
	I sing
These are the things
	I sing to you

Reach out your hand to draw them near
	Those stars behind the tree
Whispers we can almost hear
	Light we almost see
Visions that are almost clear
	People we can almost be

These are the things
	That ring
These are the things
	That ring true

These are the things
	I sing
These are the things
	I sing to you

These are the things that I sing that I bring
	To you