Love leaves on Sundays

Everyone who matters leaves the Island on Sunday nights

The ferry swallows them as I stand behind and watch

I wait on the beach as the boat pulls away

And stay there until it's just a dot on the Sound

Whenever I cry, I remember this truth:

Love is very messy. Especially when it's a teenager.
In the absence of love, there's a chance to catch up on housework.

Love always comes back in a few days. And brings it's welcome mess with him.