Cleveland W. Gibson
Woke up this morning, from dreaming of Paradise (Won) to sing about the rhythm of life, and those things in my mind I saw all through the night. I remembered loving you, how we met, and all those waves of emotion, so grand as the moon or pure starlight.
In my dream I ran so fast along a wall of flames, faster as the flames grew higher, I'd do all this, oh, Darling one, have no fear, if only you let me near. Dare me to visit any grave in coal-black night, I can do all that, even in the rain without any splinter of light, and ears all filled by a gypsy beat, it's good for me, Flamenco music, what a treat! Ole! Grande! Ole!
I get so excited as your hand finds mine, then your twitchy fingers entwine, to
show you will stay by my side, playful moans until you become my bonny bride.
Many things you've asked from me tend to fade away, but a crisp memory
remains, of the mind games you loved to play. What fun! What danger, I must say, OMG, beloved tomboy, please, please behave.
Then along comes a time in our life when all seems finished, dusted and done.
That's the pivotal moment when we stop doing those things of fun. We know life
as the fuel for all the stories we invent, and sadly edit to finish at the graveyard end. Always. But life plays tricks, no need to despair when as full circle our kids grow, to give us such a wonderous glow.
We can take a last look down a historic-memory way, always wondering about
timeless gems of Love and Life gone astray. A kiss, a flower, a ring and wine, I
remember your rhythm of life as divine.
Of course we look forward to more times anew, yet looking back I wonder what
we really, really knew. Such is life. C'est la vie. My, oh, my, beloved you still dream with me.