Rendezvous With a Madman

The clockwise closure of the lock, the casual yet floral frock, the charming cinematic pose, the way she crinkles up her nose, at cigarettes and cheap perfume, I know she's waiting in my room. I wonder if she hears my song, the one I wrote Beethoven on, The shadows of the cedar tree outside the room are chilling me with fears of ghosts she doesn't know. I hear their breathing deep and slow. in Gothic grain, I see a face within the bark, what is this place? The greedy grass absorbs the sound, my music sinks into the ground and sprouts a blossom burning bright I'll take it back to her tonight. Should I return? I have the wine, Sangria and a Valentine. a strangled sigh escapes my throat, I can not sing the words I wrote. The very fabric of the night is twisting out, this can't be right.... .............................. My melancholy fancy fades, the feathered breath of hope pervades. A foreigner to fate am I But love is strong ....... and I must try