A Vision
She's a vision in a gilt frame
'fore the weary man he became.
He hears a sweet Spanish guitar.
Slumber takes him to days afar.
Through misty time, he hears his name.
Butterflies cajole, "join the game".
A Degas etching, she's the same.
Lilacs in her hair - there they are.
She's a vision.
How straight and true was cupid's aim,
when then, their love, they did proclaim.
She was taken away so far.
Does she live as a twinkling star?
He sighed - mere dreams left of her flame.
She's a vision.
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