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The Wedding Song

The echo of a moment fades away. You’re beautiful and glowing like a young bride on her wedding day.

As she walks down the aisle through a veil of precious memories, the hands of time are catching up to me.

So, take is slow how quickly we forget. I long for long-lost summers filled with friends and front-porch cigarettes.

Let’s sail away on paper ships through skies of dandelion wind. Forever never comin’ back again.

Where shadows of the evening come alive, there’s seven somber maidens waiting holding holy lantern light. 

They whisper what your future holds, they paint your past with rings of smoke your fortune never comes without price.

My melancholy queen of make-believe. 

She rides a rising emerald wave, her watercolors serenade the moonlight on the border line, the sunset in your ghost-town eyes.

My scarlet fever wrapped in velveteen.

She wanders where the dismal people go. Mysterious and haunting like a silent-move picture show.

I kissed her once upon a dream…the red lips on the silver screen…a fallen star that burned out long ago.

The old man at the highway ribbon’s end. They say he spent a lifetime chasing rainbows waitin’ round the bend.

He hitchhiked on a lightning bolt to ride off where the thunder rolls; his tombstone etched with Catch Me If You Can.

I heard the broken bird who learned to fly. She’s singing at your window when the chariots of dawn arrive.

The ballerina pirouettes upon an empty hourglass for one last dance before we say goodbye.

The prophet child walks between the rain, the sentimental, bashful poet’s drowning in the alleyway.

The curtains of his mind unfold, he spins his sorrow into gold, but hides behind uncertain shades of grey.

He takes the roulette wheel to nowhere bound; she strikes another match and trades a last glance with her one-horse town.

The tattered romance on the road, with empty pockets full of hope to cash in when the final deal goes down.



But maybe we can turn the world around.