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 balloon,
Like a carousel that turning, running rings around the moon,
Like a clock who's 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 windmill of your mind.
Like a tunnel that you follow, to a tunnel of its own, down the hallow to a cabin where the sun has never shown,
Like a door that keeps revolving in a half forgotten dream, or the ripples from a pebble someone tosses in a stream,
Like a clock who's 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 windmill of your mind.
She's an jingle in your pocket or is a jangle in your head.
Why did summer go so quickly was it something that you said.
Lovers walk along a shore, leave their footprints in the sand.
Is the sound of distant drumming just the fingers of your hand, pictures hanging in a hallway, like a fragment of a song, half remembered names and faces, but to whom do they belong,
when you knew that it was over, in the autumn of goodbyes for a moment you could not recall the color of his eyes.
Like a circle in a spiral,
Like a wheel within a wheel, never ending or beginning on an ever spinning reel, as the inches unwind,
Like the circles that you find in the windmill of your mind.,, its its own

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