(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.