Some days her eyes were violet, some days the darkest brown
She dressed just like a gypsy, from the raggedy part of town;
Conchita's ways were easy, I never saw a jealous frown,
In her diamond gaze I'd stumble, but in her laughter I would drown.

We'd meet for moments stolen from the clutter of our lives,
I'd hold her body close to mine, and stare into those eyes;
We'd laugh, we'd love, and then we'd leave for different parts of town
In her crystal gaze I'd learn to swim: but in her laughter, I would drown.

In the hazy middle-distance between the known and the unseen
Hovers in uncertainty the ghost of what might have been;
And though I try to face each dawn without a backward glance, it seems
That that laughter of Conchita's echoes in my dreams.

When I close my eyes I can feel her there, my hands on her slender hips
Planting half-remembered kisses on those dusky upturned lips;
The scent of incense in her hair, the rustle of her silken gown
In her limpid gaze I'd simply melt, but in her laughter, I would drown.

In the hazy middle-distance between the known and the unseen
Hovers in uncertainty the ghost of what might have been;
And though I try to face each dawn without a backward glance, it seems
That that laughter of Conchita's will always echo in my dreams.

Copyright © M.J.C. Griffin [ASCAP]