I used to pluck the lines of the song
and the fingers glided over the ebony chords
I used to run the steps of a forgotten hill
and dance to music under the thrill
of rhythm and lights, with feet holding body—
light and strong through the night,
and limbs gliding— through crescendos taking flight.
But still I dream of floating—over the sea,
layers of misty chords carrying me,
high above the clouds, across the waves
and the shores of time—
with you—my someone—by my side,
lifting me high, twirling me through time—
forever more, we make the climb.
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