November Nights

This thing's, uh, sort of a Bachian thing It's really—, you have to, have to really listen to the phrasing of it because it's really wild You say that you're restless You say that you know me too well You've seen all my best And you've heard all the stories I tell You think you've been taken for granted, you're probably right Still I remember a November night When the dawn on your doorway shone white with frost And the soft love that always began with the touch of your hand And recall the mornings that tossed your hair in the wind Time's made it meaningless, I'm insecure, you can tell But why am I leaving unless time had only meant well? There's nothing left now to excite you, no reason to try Still I remember a candlelit sky And the summer surrounding the ground where you and I lay And though we were always alone with our secrets known We both were aware and afraid our closeness might end My love's like a dancer, she weaves through the danger complete Her well rehearsed answers with rational reasons for feet And if it decreases or ceases to always seem right I'll just remember a November Night When the dawn on your doorway shone white with frost And the soft love that always began with the touch of your hand And recall the mornings that tossed your hair in the wind