Coercing the Air In Remembrance

I'll speak of you with glass rings 'round my ankles jangling in the Southern sun at each turn as I walk. I'll serve the guests their lemonade and in the sun, I'll slowly fade in conversation born to run a background 'mongst the trees. I'll smile the winning, loser's smile and think of you there all the while as dear as sweet impending storms upon a wilted Wednesday. I'll wear the bells upon my skirt in iced aluminum dessert Tones to bear your name today at each turn as I walk And as the guests spill out into the night I'll alabaster broken light and risk the moon to get it right with glass rings 'round my ankles.