Open the window to a world dressed up.
I'll wear my skirt and my hair up high
You'll wear cologne and a red bow tie.

We friends gather in the streets tonight, 
just we were last night,
just as we'll be tomorrow. 

Kisses to our house-mothers
sitting on apartment stoops while scheming,
calling out, and whistling while sipping sangria.

We end up in canoes at Parque Retiro with stars above
reflected all around us as waves make them dance.
Where does the night sky end and water begin?

Too fast to find out, we meet up with Anne and Jorge, 
who else came with Nan that evening? Names fade, yet 
magic stays from nights of steady beats on Madrid's streets.

A sip of wine, a flamenco dance on stage, conversations on
that bench just outside of the church where many will pray
rosaries tomorrow but will lean out windows and sing tonight.

All the world is out tonight as you walk me home. 
My house-father has dozed off, so we sip cocoa with the others.
Stories of simple pleasures do not excite but rather delight us.

My world was somehow slower, even in the crowded city.
Dare I return now, will life be as sweet
forty years after the neon, moonlit, musical streets?

Open the window to a world dressed up.
I'll wear my skirt and my hair up high
You'll wear cologne and a red bow tie.