the trees gush every time you're around,
the song of your sound is the best thing in town,
the heat from your feet melt the snow on the ground

the wind whistles a warmer rushing movement
expanding out from the flush of your touch
twirling, twisting and reminiscing
this double helix kind of feeling

I'm sewing the growing knowing of rhythm around into a flowing ballroom gown
blushing a crimson kind of steam under the spotlights in my dream ~
when curtain calls as morning falls,
I take my bow and change of scene.