She

She may be the face I can’t forget,
A trace of pleasure or regret,
May be my treasure or
The price I have to pay.

dog whistling

She may be the song that summer sings,
May be the chill that autumn brings,
May be a hundred different things
Within the measure of a day.

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She may be the beauty or the beast,
May be the famine or the feast,
May turn each day into a
Heaven or a hell.

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She may be the mirror of my dream,
A smile reflected in a stream,
She may not be what she may seem
Inside her shell.

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She who always seems so happy in a crowd,
Whose eyes can be so private and so proud,
No one’s allowed to see them
When they cry.

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She may be the love that cannot hope to last,
May come to me from shadows of the past,
That I remember till the day I die.

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She may be the reason I survive,
The why and wherefore I’m alive,
The one I’ll care for through the
Rough and rainy years.

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Me, I’ll take her laughter and her tears
And make them all my souvenirs
For where she goes I’ve got to be.
The meaning of my life is she, she, she–.

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the song

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