Miles away from home where the sun is on fire with yesterdays dreams
an Indian sari gown of silk and bead arrives  bending the wind to its  will
warm rain and saffron tinted skies caress gold eyelids and irises of old
Miles away from home the strings of my guitar recall Indian streams
and warm walks on the beach. A faint song  clings to her ghostly figure
like a lyrical refrain, while a fading light begins to lose its shine ....
August smiles still simmer on my mind ,  I was a young man in love  
with a Princess who cradled my heart to the rocking motion of the moon;
She took me to Saffron Hill, then flowered me with poetry, oh what a thrill
to be so close to the sun and not to burn from the throws of her quill ...
Miles away from home I felt the power of her light and then she was gone,
like the monsoon rains of India, she disappeared in September leaving me
to strum my guitar in a Cincinnati bar, watching neon lights light up,  
I told it to old Fred , but he just smiled at me and handed me
a saving thread , "Son,  you'll always have your memories"      
then he handed me another Sangria, the color of her swiveling dress.