|
Isabel is waiting |
|
In a room of many shadows |
|
Her eyes like flashing diamonds |
|
Shining brightly from the sea |
|
Her hair in silken tresses |
|
Like a robe around her shoulders |
|
Hiding tantalising treasures |
|
That the sun has never seen |
|
|
|
Isabel is watching |
|
Like a princess from the mountains |
|
For the first soft snows of winter |
|
And the icy winds they bring |
|
With a whisper of her sadness |
|
In the passing of the summer |
|
Her crown is wild red roses |
|
With a lace of forest green |
|
|
|
And she wraps her arms around me and she sighs |
|
And she sing to me in silence with her eyes |
|
And her hair upon my pillow comforts me |
|
|
|
Isabel is weeping |
|
And her eyes are full of wonder |
|
She knows that it's the time for her |
|
And she cannot understand |
|
She's a mistress of the moonlight |
|
To the stars she is a sister |
|
And the morning now awaits her |
|
To betray her once again |
|
|
|
And she whispers as she sadly slips away |
|
Then she smiles because there's nothing left to say |
|
And she takes with her the sadness and the sun |