round like a circle in a spiral
like a wheel within a wheel
never ending or beginning
on an ever spinning reel
like a snowball down a mountain,
or a carnival baloon
like a carousel that's turning,
running rings around the moon
like a clock whose hands are sweeping,
past the minutes of it's face
and the world is like an apple,
whirling silently in space
like the circles that you find,
in the windmills of your mind.
like a tunnel that you follow
to a tunnel of its own.
down a hollow to a cavern
where the sun has never shone
like a door that keeps revolving
in a half forgooten dream
or the ripple from the pebble
someone tosses in a stream
like a clock whose hands are sweeping
past the minutes of its face
and the world is like an apple
whirling silently in space
like the circles that you find,
in the windmills of your mind.
keys that jungle in your rocket,
words that jangle in your head.
why did summer go so quickly?
was it something that you said?
lovers walk along the shore,
and leave their foot prints in the sand.
is the sound of distant drumming,
just the fingers of your hand?
pictures hanging in a hallway,
and the fragment of a song
half remembered names and faces,
but to whom do they belong?
when you knew that is was over,
you were suddenly aware
that the autumn leaves were turning
to the colour of his hair.
round like a circle in a spiral
like a wheel within a wheel
never ending or beginning
on an ever spinning reel
as the images unwind,
like the circles that you find
in the windmills of your mind.