"1967"

1967

 

Gently she said, “I cannot be your flame”

She had to go away and sigh about the sorrow of streams and what will be

I can’t revive her anywhere else but here 

 

Words don’t appear to avail

I can’t explain her at all

Music’s the only way there 

 

I tend to her summer of love all of my days

 

One day I was lonesome, feeling lost in summer air

The usual kind of separation had exposed my many thoughts and words to sheer despair

I was so lonesome when she afforded me her smile

 

And though at first I cried

And though her flight was severe  

The music she gave was so clear

 

I tend to her summer of love all of my days

I tend to her summer of love

all her garden flowers,

all her dreams and shadows

 

I will keep dancing I swear

Singing the song of her name

Winter is always so near

 

I tend to her summer of love all of my days

I tend to her summer of love

all her garden flowers

all her dreams and shadows

all her garden flowers

all her dreams and shadows

 

 

James Moyer © 2013