You asked me for a dance one night, ’twas late one New Year’s Eve,
and as I held you in my arms, your shape did wend and weave;
a sudden kiss as midnight struck (I thought it make believe) -
for stars and kismet ruled with zeal our lives would interleave.

I give to you the morning sun to dance within your smile
a flower wild amongst the stones upon a rocky isle
with hidden paths in ancient woods where we can walk awhile.

You lead me by the hand through nights into the waking days,
through swinging gates in mirrored walls and through the midnight haze,
through castles built in sandbox realms in children’s yesterdays.

I give to you a ragged doll, a puppet on a string,
a ride upon a rocking horse, a swallow on the wing,
a ribbon trailing from your hair, a red or scarlet thing.

You whisk me from a valley deep wherein a black wind blows,
and tracks upon the empty trails are hidden by the snows,
to share with me your secret thoughts and steal away my woes.

I give to you a silver flute, a whistle on a chain,
a drummer boy with dancing feet, a sugar candy cane,
a window flushed with foolish tears mid pitter-patter rain.

You lead me from entangled streets inside a circus town,
subduing smoky memories that haunt this wistful clown
by quelling plaintive melodies and sorrows that they sound.

I give to you a penny plain to cast upon a dream,
a streaking star inside the sky, a bridge across a stream,
a teddy bear with tattered ears and berries dipped in cream.

You show me how a rainbow lightens distant liquid lands,
where dew drops paint the purple leaves deserted on the sands
on roads of simple wonderment within your slender hands.

I give to you in winter’s chill my ragged scarf of thread,
a dripping ball of candle wax on fire blazing red,
and offer you this smitten rhymer’s loving arms in bed.

You spin me tales of laughter, yes, of laughter on a spree,
of laughter restless in the sky, of laughter running free,
of laughter dancing, skipping wildly far beyond the sea.

I give to you these careless words, arrayed in broken lines,
adorned, my love, with tempest winds and teardrop salty brine,
in cups of youthful passion steeped in desolation wine,
and promise I’m forever yours...  if only you’ll be mine.