The owl calls into the moon I unlock the door It opens to an ocean view I’ve seen many times before. As we settle in our room Rain starts to pour, And teal green waves pile on the shore. Through morning mist we take the trail Down to the sand. Thread our way through driftwood piles On the border of the land. Reedy grasses ankle high, Kelp on the strand. In cold water barefoot we stand. Places of the heart Memory songs. Pebbles kept in a wooden box Till a new one comes along. Huckleberries on the path A wild turkey track Some twisted pines sculpted by the wind A damp mossy mat. Hidden in between the dunes, Salt marsh and flat. Maybe we're, maybe we're, maybe never coming back. Places of the heart Songs of the land When it calls into your heart Sing along if you can. Places of the heart. Glimpse of the past. Save the moments when you can. Maybe never coming back.