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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=418173" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>song - Snow on The River (iii)</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I saw you once in Janet’s Lounge in the way you flicked your hair <br>And for a moment I was back in the Town Hall on the stairs <br>We were heading for tomorrow amongst the chosen few <br>I touched your arm and spoke and when she turned it wasn’t you <br>	<br>I scrawled our names in stone once on the seawall at MacDuff <br>I thought the end would never come, but stone’s not tough enough <br>To stand the blast of wind and wave, that took the love we had <br>Somewhere between the Sandhead shore and a fading photograph </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>I watched your plane come gliding down from the north of Anniesland <br>And your name was in the vapour trails as if by your own hand <br>You threw your arms around me there as everyone looked on <br>But I was just a refugee from someone else’s song <br>	<br>An Islay piper stopped and played Loch Rannoch just for me <br>I saw your eyes in shadow as I stood there on my knees <br>We crossed the line of madness once when whisky set us free <br>Forbidden fruit that called so sweet, we knew could never be </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>The notion we’ve lived other lives makes so little sense to me <br>And yet somehow we connected then as if we’d always been <br>We hardly spoke we hardly touched, we often turned our backs <br>On something deep that seemed to break the laws of time and chance </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I heard you once in springtime babe, down where the bluebells spread <br>Between the White Loch and the road, in words we left unsaid <br>In purple perfumed haze there, I could smell the scent of grief <br>It wasn’t you; just thoughts of you, upon a trembling leaf </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>But sometimes you’re there everywhere, and I’m sure you know it still <br>And we could have been, as we were seen, but not for lack of will <br>Our good friends tried to keep us tied; for that I’m grateful too <br>But there were walls that wouldn’t fall, and so I ran from you </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I heard from green eyes long since that you’d moved out to New York <br>But tragedy was waiting, and the rains fell for your loss <br>Some for the pain you’ve had to bear; and some for might have been<br>I look for you in every street but know you’re out of reach</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Jim+Hogg">Jim Hogg</a><div class=q>
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And for a moment I was back in the Town Hall on the stairs 
We were heading for tomorrow amongst the chosen few 
I touched your arm and spoke and when she turned it wasn’t you ..."></div>
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