Lilac Revolution

She’ll trumpet a mid-summer’s lilac revolution To smash and grab and take your affection A twinkled-eyed assault of sweet-toothed pleasure On half-composed clarity’s measure She’ll launch a pillow-cannoned war On every certainty of beauty you had before She throws light around like a star in the sky Even her sleepy exhaust is a heavenly sigh She gilds the clouds on drizzling days She makes hope smile by her vibrant ways If her lover embraced her in all her truth She would be her lover’s fountain of youth In moonshine night of wine and song With gypsy-like fever she’ll wring out the wrong She’ll dance and in dancing burlesque Ideals of woman and grace painted picturesque – By the moralistic mentors of caged-bird blues. How this bluebird’s a phoenix by night’s fiery hues! In hangover mornings of tangled heart-strings Within the houses of healing you’ll hear she still sings Of undesired responsibilities in a shaky jilted voice A dew-soaked ballad to sunrise to which your only choice Is to cater to her jazzy Simone-like disposition To every her wiled whim, to her warmth, to her lilac revolution