Alt piano acoustic vocal

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My wife

Bliss

The pretty lace of your laughter
The music of your name
Like a fading whisper gently turned to rain
Traces of bliss linger after
Loath to drift away
Left behind a faint reminder of your grace

All the sculptors are mad if they want you in their stone
And the cantors are sad with longing for you in their song

What kind of hope for the capture
Of your countenance
On the canvass of an artist in your trance
And what a moment of rapture
Should there come a chance
For choreographers to mime your charm in dance

All the sculptors are mad if they want you in their stone
And the cantors are sad with longing for you in their song

For what kind of man want so keep you under lock and key
Of public scrutiny

The greatest act by their maker
The face within the mask
Brought to life the purity within our grasp
Our final toast to your nature
With museum glass
Or a granite pillar sunken in the grass

For what kind of man wants to keep you
Under lock and key
Of human misery

c 2005 Sanford A. Mixon (BMI)