Never ending or beginning on an ever-spinning reel
Like a snowball down a mountain or a carnival balloon
Like a carousel that’s turning running rings around the
moon
Like a clock whose hands are sweeping past the minutes of
its face
And the world is like an apple whirling silently in space
Like the circles that you find in the windmills of your
mind
Like a tunnel that you follow to a tunnel of its own
Down a hollow to a cavern where the sun has never shone
Like a door that keeps revolving in a half-forgotten dream
Or the ripples from a pebble someone tosses in a stream
Like a clock whose hands are sweeping past the minutes of
its face
And the world is like an apple whirling silently in space
Like the circles that you find in the windmills of your
mind
Keys that jingle in your pocket words that jangle in your
head
Why did summer go so quickly? Was it something that she said?
Lovers walk along the shore and leave their footprints in
the sand
Is the sound of distant drumming just the fingers of your
hand?
Pictures hanging in a hallway and the fragment of a song
Half-remembered names and faces but to whom do they
belong?
When you knew that it was over you were suddenly aware
That the autumn leaves were turning to the color of her
hair…
Like a circle in a spiral, like a wheel within a wheel
Never ending or beginning on an ever-spinning reel
As the images unwind
Like the circles that you find
In the windmills
Of your mind
Marilyn and Alan Bergman (1968)
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