Someday, Perhaps

To what I've left behind,

When the wisps of clouds are icy waves

Breaking on a beach of muted blue,

And golden streams of dulcet light 

Pour down the distant mountains,

Return to me, return to me;

When dark tree soldiers stand erect 

Beneath the aegis of the dew,

I'll trumpet your name on their grey field,

And should my clarion call correct,

Then return to me, return to me;

When wheeling blackbirds flock to flight

And the breeze sings a quiet requiem,

Come down from the mountains,

Come down off the wind,

And return to me, return to me;

When a burst of sun-fire kills the day

And sets the world to slumber deep,

I'll look for you -- cast an inward eye

Upon those mountains of my mind,

And return to you, return to you.

-William