The Ticket I Kept in My Glove

Lyrics

A ticket folded small inside my glove
For a morning boat that I have never boarded
The harbour hums beneath a pewter sky
And I stand on the quay with one more minute

The gulls are circling over rope and rust
The ferryman is waiting by the gangway
I count the years I told myself, not yet
And hold the paper, soft as an old letter

One minute, and the water turns to gold
One minute, and I choose the open sea
The ticket in my glove is growing warm
It's asking who I mean to be
Let the old life wave from the shore
Let the new one fill the sail
One minute, and the rope falls free
And I'm done with waiting for the gale

The bell rings once across the sleeping bay
The first mist lifts like curtains at the opera
I step toward the plank and the light
Both feet are shaking and both feet are certain

One minute, and the water turns to gold
One minute, and I choose the open sea
The ticket in my glove is growing warm
It's asking who I mean to be
Let the old life wave from the shore
Let the new one fill the sail
One minute, and the rope falls free
And I'm done with waiting for the gale

No one is watching, no one is calling
Just the tide and the engine's low hum
The only voice that ever mattered
Is the one that says I'm going, I've come

One minute, and the water turned to gold
One minute, and I chose the open sea
The ticket in my glove is warm with hope
And that is who I mean to be
The old life waves from the shore
The new one fills the sail
The rope fell free, I'm on my way
And I'm done with waiting for the gale

Hold the ticket
Step aboard