The moment

On this soft, soft Otis Redding summer night I am stirred by the touch of her hand I know at last she understands This warm embrace under dying light On this soft, soft Otis Redding summer night alone, feeling lost and done for I am stirred by the touch of her hand as she places the old blue scarf on my shoulder I know at last she understands I will sleep with the memory of that warm embrace under dying light