Rod McKuen

Shy one, dear one, keeper of my heart. She moves in the pantry quietly apart.

There she pours the flour. There she kneads the dough to an isle in the water with her I would go.

Shy one, dear one, keeper of my heart. She moves in the parlor quietly apart.
She stands against the window, all in the fire glow to an isle in the water with her I would go.

Shy one, dear one, keeper of my heart. She moves in the chamber quietly apart.
And there she smoothes the linen and fluffs the pillows so to an isle in the water with her I would go.

But I cannot sail for my boat has holes. So I rumple her pillow and I stir the coals.
And in the parlor I guess she knows to an isle in the water with her I would go.