Sleeves brush dew on the stone-gray stair
Tea steam curls in the quiet air
Ink blooms black on a rice-white page
One small lamp keeps away the age

She wears the moon on her sleeve tonight (ah…)
Hair like a river in silver light
Every step writes another line
Of a love that never learned time

Plum flowers fall on her pale blue dress
Red thread tied to a small jade crest
Wind steals words from her parted lips
Leaves them drifting on the mountain mist

She wears the moon on her sleeve tonight (ah…)
Eyes hold a thousand lanterns bright
If you listen you’ll hear her sigh
In the space between earth and sky

Who waits there by the willow tree? (ooh…)
Shadow drinking the dawn’s first tea
Name unspoken, yet softly known
Like the scent of spring when you’re alone

She wears the moon on her sleeve tonight (ah…)
Heart like a poem you can’t rewrite
Let the seasons and stars all fly
Her quiet love will not say goodbye

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