Once upon a time, I danced
to a different kind of tune;
he sat at my piano, fingers
pouring out Clair de Lune.
He wooed me with Debussy
and entranced me with Ravel;
against my better judgement
well... I fell, I fell, I fell.
Once upon a time, he wrote me
songs to win my heart-
full of deep crescendos and
a dozen different parts.
And I loved him like a symphony
that soared inside my brain,
and I loved him, how I loved him,
and his music kept me sane.
Once upon a time he sang
me Spanish lullabies,
and Id sit there for hours
til I had them memorised.
He never made proposals,
never promised me the world;
he wrapped me up in music
as his melodies unfurled.
Once upon a time I danced
to a different melody.
He loved his Rachmaninov
yet barely noticed me;
but as it held him together
it was tearing me apart.
I was just a teenage muse,
and music had his heart.
Once upon a time, I danced
to a different kind of tune;
he sat at my piano, and he
played me Clair de Lune.
He wooed me with Debussy
and entranced me with Ravel;
he was too busy with threnodies
to catch me when I fell .
