My life has been a tapestry of rich and royal hue;
an everlasting vision of the ever-changing view.
A wonderous, woven magic in bits of blue and gold
a tapestry to feel and see, impossible to hold.
Once amid the soft, silver sadness in the sky
there came a man of fortune, a drifter passing by.
He wore a torn and tattered cloth around his leathered hide;
and a coat of many colors, yellow-green on either side.
He moved with some uncertainty as if he didn't know;
just what he was there for, or where he ought to go.
Once he reached for something, golden hanging from a tree
and his hand came down empty....
Soon within my tapestry along the rugged road;
he sat down on a river rock and turned into a toad.
It seemed that he had fallen into someone's wicked spell;
and I wept to see him suffer, though I didn't know him well.
As I watched in sorrow, there suddenly appeared
a figure gray and ghostly beneath the flowing beard
in times of deepest darkness I've seen him dressed in black;
now my tapestry's unraveling, he's come to take me back.
He's come to take me back.