https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Btk5ERwGpSk

She sang to me a song forgotten from very long ago
time stood still and I was nine, in the kitchen nook
watching her hands as they rolled the dough
her voice, soft as a summer brook

Fifty years later on my pillow I heard her voice  
neither here nor there, from the house of the dead  
came an echo of our time, she got into my head  
to let me know she knew I had no choice;

I fell asleep to the tune of yesterday's refrain
recalling her feathered golden broach    
A blue moon smiled from the other plane
and bathed me in light like summer rain,  

and while I slept I was overtook  
by a lyrical sound, soft as a summer brook.