It makes the air around my fair hair bend the follicle to its end,
maybe even all the way down to the Keratin,
I imagine it as a mixed high of cinnamon and heroin,
on a beautiful fall day viewed out a glass window in Maryland
hearing Claire de lune play on the theremin
your best friend in June mixed with, well no other comparison,
I soon hope to be there again,

sans a variant 

by a warm fireplace in winter with activities that are merriment 

the blooms of flowers in their spring time elegance,
I hope you understand the music and it’s relevance