The morning sun shines brightly on my bed,
And the trees are silent within their mist.
All is still, like the morning in my head,
Those memories, those days will never cease.

The scent of lilies lingers, unfading,
A smile, so fair and so dearly cherished.
Her eyes a crescendo of life surging,
Yet solemn and perhaps very saddened.

In sotto voce, her music still play,
Her hands gently dance upon the piano.
Hers is the morning eternal and gay,
The beautiful autumn I long to know.

All the wealth in the world I will not take,
For this one sacred moment in her wake.