Everybody standing

Listening to the piano

Looking through the window in the night

I’d like to tell you

 

A twinkling star tells me

About the morning

I see dancers, black and white

 

In time, advancing

In love with all that tangling

Being, in the woods, I hear

 

A cold glass breaking

A warm hand shaking

And a song; but not your voice

28-03-1991

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