Kalina is the middle name of one of my former students. No, I do not mess around with students of mine, but Kalina was a senior, who reminded me very much of a lover from 30 years ago. I have this habit of memorizing not only all of my students' names, but also their middle names. When I came across the musical sound of Kalina, I knew that I would write a song. The fact that it belonged to such a memory-inspiring young lady helped.

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Kalina, Sunday Morning (1997)

Kalina Sunday morning, across my bed she lies
she loves without warning, her kisses they surprisingly
lift me from slumber and suddenly I rise
Kalina, Sunday morning, you were mine

I never really held you, you were only in my mind
but Sunday morning reveries they have a way of finding
the line between reality and the way a young man feels
Kalina, Sunday morning you were real.

Iíve never seen your smile before but I canít forget your face
Iíve never felt your skin on mine, but Iím sure we have embraced
Iíve loved you for a million years, imagination, yet
the scent of Kalina still lingers in my bed

Lying here with thoughts of you, old memories reborn
Silhouettes of might-have-beens against the quiet morning
I close my eyes and whisper, your name into the dawn
Kalina, Sunday morningÖand youíre gone