Gentle on My Mind

It’s knowing that your door is always open


And your path is free to walk


That makes me tend to leave my sleeping bag


Rolled up and stashed behind your couch


And it’s knowing I’m not shackled


By forgotten words and bonds


And the ink stains that are dried up on some line





That keeps you in the backroads


By the rivers of my memory


And keeps you ever gentle on my mind





It’s not clinging to the rocks and ivy


Planted on their columns now that bind me


Or something that somebody said


Because they thought we fit, together walking





It’s just knowing that the world


Will not be cursing or forgiving


When I walk along some railroad track and find


That you’re moving on the backroads


By the rivers of my memory


And for hours you’re just gentle on my mind





Though the wheat fields and the clothes lines


And the junkyards and the highways come between us


And some other woman’s crying to her mother


‘Cause she turned and you were gone





I still might run in silence


Tears of joy might stain my face


And the summer sun might burn me ’til I’m blind


But not to where I cannot see


You walking on the backroads


By the rivers flowing gentle on my mind





You dip your cup of soup, back from a gurgling


Crackling caldron, in some train yard


Your beard a roughening coal pile


And a dirty hat pulled low across your face





Through cupped hands ’round the tin can


I pretend to hold you to my breast and find





That you’re waiting from the backroads


By the rivers of my memories


Ever smiling, ever gentle on my mind