You Still Laugh Before The Punchline

You're married twice, I moved away at 20,
You have a daughter studying in Rome.
I told you I had nearly bought that workshop,
You smiled and said you always talked of home.
Then came the names we hadn't said in ages,
The field behind the school, that borrowed car.
The afternoon we swore we'd leave together, we had no money,
But we swore it hard.
You still laugh before the punchline lands,
Still drum the table softly with your hands.
We took two roads that never crossed again,
Now you're sitting here asking where I've been.
Oh, look what the years did,
Some things they couldn't touch.
Oh, after all this distance, I remember far too much.
You asked me why I never wrote that summer,