I hear you coo, dear white-winged dove,
Mirror in the sky, what is love.
Musical metaphors, symbols abound,
I listen carefully to the sound.
.
Now, far from the edge of seventeen,
You still rock on, ancient queen.
Belladonna, made of leather and lace,
The Hall of Fame holds your place.
.
These many years, I matured with you,
Triumphed and wept, watching you.
Silver spring, blue-green colors flashing,
As you write and live the songs you sing.
.
Your legacy will ring like bells in the night,
Bewitching listeners in your own right.
For after the glitter fades, watching out to sea,
I will hear you singing out - don't forget me.
