The side streets of Providence are always
Windy. The wind rushes along the river
And crashes up the hill like a tide riding the
Shore. The moon is struggling to shine through the
Thinning grey clouds and steal the glory
From the dull glowing street lights over head.
I’m walking up and down the hill trying to learn
The piano man’s words, a melody that grows on you
Like emerald ivy on an ivory fence. I learn the words
And sing along, trying not to sing of her, trying
To find a different meaning to this memory.
The beach is a thousand stars at our feet, the highway
Is a thousand stars in our eyes, our hearts
Could make a thousand stars dim. I find
My own melody this night and sing along
Softly in the street to a song only I can hear.