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 forgotten dream,
or the ripples from a pebble
someone tosses in a stream
like a clock whose hands are sweeping ....

keys that jingle in your pocket
words that jangle in your head
why did summer go so quickly
was it something that you said?
lovers walk along a shore
and leave their footprints in the sand

is the sound of distant drumming
just the fingers of your hand
pictures hanging in a hallway
and the fragment of this song
half remembered names and faces
but to whom do they belong

dusty springfield -