You’re not the same place I fell in love with in our wild hours of youth.
The hills and creeks where we played look so much smaller these days.
I’m still proud of the way I left you behind and never went back.
But I miss the endless car rides where I’d sing along to your old James Taylor CD’s.
I keep wanting to run home after all this time, even if it’s nothing more than a security blanket now.
I’m calling out to my Georgia, but Georgia stopped calling back to me.
God’s standing next to me while you run away from my outstretched hands .
I could come back if you’d only show me the places you hide in.
I wish I could rediscover those hills and creeks with shallow imprints of you and me.
Because there is time yet to play before the sun goes down.