In the heat of Indian Summer
Sipping coffee at a table outside
Your eyes were on the poem I wrote you
I thought I saw a tear begin to slide
At each teardrop was an exit
But the doors they all were closed
And the sweetness of the moment
Was ironic I suppose

We never touched the hands of time
We were caught in a web so fine
Suspended, never ending
Dangled on a line
Forever yours, forever mine

In the steep September daylight
When the shadows fall at four
On the bookstores and the cafes
On the little lighthouse by the shore
Are you really made of iron?
Am I really made of stone?
Oh we were so close together
But we were never ever so alone


We never touched the hands of time
We were caught in a web so fine
Suspended, never ending
Dangled on a line
Forever yours, forever mine

Eyes just staring down the college street
Strewn with the paper of sycamore leaves
Both of us afraid to move or breathe
We couldn't stay but we couldn't leave

Even the moon of Mendocino
Shining peaceful on the sea
Tried its best to ease our heartache
I guess it was not meant to be

We never touched the hands of time
We were caught in a web so fine
Suspended, never ending
Dangled on a line
Forever yours, forever mine
Forever yours, forever mine