One day in the attic
|
I became ecstatic
|
Never such a photograph I'd seen
|
|
Althought the picture faded
|
And the light up there was shaded
|
I held onto the stranger's face and dreamed
|
|
The air was still and musty
|
And all the treasures dusty
|
I climbed back down the ladder to the hall
|
|
The steps were weak and creaking
|
My heart I felt was breaking
|
I fell down and I landed on the floor
|
|
What is her name?
|
Sarah or Jane?
|
Constance or Charmaine?
|
What is her name?
|
|
Where is she from?
|
Rebecca or Yvonne?
|
Sabrina or Siobhan?
|
Where has she gone?
|
|
Sat down in the kitchen
|
Inventing tales of fiction
|
About this beauty I held in my hand
|
|
Around her throat a locket
|
Her hands were in her pocket
|
And soon my heart had issued a command
|
|
In her eyes was sorrow
|
Her thought though I could follow
|
Her cheeks were pale as moonbeams in the sky
|
|
Her mouth it makes me wonder
|
Inside I felt like thunder
|
I'd guess her name or at least though I would try
|
|
-----------------
|
What Is Her Name
|
| Marty Willson-Piper |
