|
Our old moon once hung in orbit |
|
Bare, though full, when there was nothing on it |
|
Long before we were adorners |
|
Then in time |
|
It covered our bright lights |
|
And Easter islands |
|
O how some do bloom |
|
Some turn to ruins |
|
Our old room |
|
Corner apartment |
|
Eventually hung heavy with the ornament |
|
By the time we moved over |
|
You wore my name |
|
I wore your colors |
|
O how some do bloom |
|
Some turn to ruins |
|
And wildlife |
|
Why some come gleamy-eyed to the evening glow |
|
I don't know |
|
And then bide |
|
On flashing fish and the silver light |
|
How it's made to show |
|
I don't know |
|
But in a new moon |
|
In a vacant evening |
|
Where there's a quiet |
|
Or an empty feeling |
|
I know, as time goes |
|
There'll be lights on my home |
