All are given a time,
Yet her time has long passed,
As she sits in the warmth of the sun,
Trying to remember its name.
Wheelchair bound in stricken form,
Her beautiful legs a memory,
Once danced ballets of the heart,
Lifting her from obscurity to fame.
The lines of time upon her face,
Her thoughts no longer find words,
Speechless she sits in the chair,
Until music flutters in on a breeze.
What requires no words to understand,
Runs with her blood from ears to hands,
Remembering the dance of Swan Lake,
Which her hands gracefully caress with ease.
Every fire giving warmth requires a spark,
Including fires held within the heart,
This spark came appropriately with a kiss,
That a gentleman placed upon her hand.
Releasing the fire of love once more,
As the music played across her soul,
Her arms remembering motions of beauty,
Though her body could no longer stand.
Every moment we have is a memory,
Every memory burns though the light is gone.
For no living moment will cease to live,
Forever embraced in time and space.
Each moment becomes a universe,
Visited through the doorway of the heart,
For as her hands remember the dance,
Her soul flies to that moment in haste.
Her vacant stare replaced with vacant chair,
The old swan has risen brighter than the sun,
Dancing by the side of her prince of dreams,
They smile to us living on forever young.
Within the song we see doorways to all moments,
For the heart dispels the illusions of time,
Through those doorways we find each other,
Within your heart’s love I find mine.
