Something Very Special
She was something very special to me, the kind of girl you'd like to see in a movie or a rosary.
She could be straight-laced or homespun or free and easy on the run,
she could be meek and mild or full of fun.
She liked country lanes and aeroplanes and cigarettes would make her strange
and when she wanted you she made it plain.
She would never say where she came from,
it didn't seem that she had anyone to answer to or dwell upon.
She liked candlelight and good wine and I would call her any time
of day or night, she didn't mind.
There was nothing that I wouldn't do to prove to her my love was true
and she gave to me a dream or two.
There were times when she would never appear for days and then she'd disappear,
but now the days have turned to years.
I was something she could use like a good friend or a pair of shoes or any kind of good news.
Now the eastern sky is crimson and red as I lie here in my lonely bed
and think about the things she said.
She said, darling, there will come a day when I must run far away,
I will go my love and you must stay.
She departed in the early spring, she didn't leave me anything to follow or to find her.
She was something very special to me, the kind of girl you'd like to see in a movie or a rosary.
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