When reality chills me to the bone, The embers of make-believe are fanned, Sitting on my garden bench alone, Tightly I cling to a phantom hand
I sing words of love into the air, Then wait for their echo to return; My heart hears a love song, rich and rare, Soon Love's cooling embers start to burn
I'll not despair, though he's far away, (Miles of land and sea keep us apart) No triumphant role does distance play -- In his spirit hands he holds my heart
And when the midnight hour is announced By a distant bell, my yearnings flare; Each need and desire is more pronounced By every chime that pulsates the air
It is then I hasten to my bed Where my spirit companion awaits; With every embrace my passion's fed, Each kiss brings me nearer Heaven's gates
Whispering "I love you" through the night, I pretend my darling can hear me; Yet when my eyes absorb dawn's first light, Sadly, I never find him near me
But I'll cling fast to these wayward dreams That direct my footsteps as they wend Past the roiling swells of sorrow's streams, Into that golden Realm of Pretend