The Bells

Pretty things blowing in the wind.
Lend your hand and hear church bells sing.
White, blue and lilac dance in the wind
And get caught on my crystal wedding ring.

I wonder if the flowers in my hair
Shower my brow in childish glee, so fair.
Oh, how you love it when I smile
Albeit transiently, everything seems fine.

Promise me that we’ll grow old
And never settle in our own world
We are nomads of time.
Honey, do you hear bells chime?

I promise to be your gypsy princess,
You’ll have all my forgiveness.
And when our time is up.
Hope we’ve had enough.

But let me touch your face again
All the creases, all the freckles.
That little crinkle when you strain
And marvel at how it feels different.