[click to enlarge photo]Keys that jingle in your pocket, words that jangle in your head;
Why did summer go so quickly? Was it something that I said?
Lovers walk along a shore and leave their footprints in the sand;
Is the sound of distant drumming just the fingers of your hand?
Pictures hanging in a hallway and the fragments of a song,
Half-remembered names and faces, but to whom do they belong?
When you knew that it was over, were you suddenly aware
That the autumn leaves were turning to the color of her hair?
Like a circle in a spiral, like a wheel within a wheel,
Never ending or beginning on an ever spinning reel,
As the images unwind, like the circles that you find
In the windmills of your mind.
I love that song. I am glad those turbines are not what goes around in my mind when I hear that song.
ReplyDeleteThe windmills of your mind become "the windmills of my heart" in French: your name turns all the windmills of my heart. Or, you could say it's the other way around I suppose.
ReplyDelete@Ettarose - The turbines of your mind. That's a different one. I like it. :)
ReplyDelete@A. - Your heart turns all the names in my windmills? You are not making sense. :)
I will accept that I made little sense. :) I meant that it was written in French first, but I like your interpretation better. Boom boody boom boody boom. Well goodness gracious me.
ReplyDelete@A. - So... that means you agree SOME killing is ok?
ReplyDeleteNO. As you very well know.
ReplyDelete