On High

This song, my love—
may it pierce your heart like silver-moon earrings,
the pair I clasped beneath your hair.
Close your eyes now,
and let me lift you—
let me hold you on high,
let me hold you on high.

Out where Kansas wheat outshines the stars,
we’ll tread those golden oceans;
and even if forgiveness falters,
my heart will still rise, wide and free, to love you.

Over and over—over and over—
red Georgia peaches, warm on the tongue,
Florida beaches, wave upon wave:
I’ll write you a new refrain
to carry us home, to sweep us clean,
while diamonds at dusk
wait patient on the shore.

So let Chicago’s sunrise blaze you back to life—
let dawn’s red hymn baptize your dreaming eyes.
Then breathe me in, cling tight,
like a California midnight that swears
the night is ours alone.
As sure as the ring on your finger,
let this moment be—
a hush held only by you and me.

And if your heart grows hard,
let us return to one—
let me rest again where the silver crescents shine.
Let me hold you on high,
let me hold you on high.