It's nearly midnight
On another Monday's eve
And I have so much work left undone
Yet the first thought on my mind
Is of your sleeping form
And that perfume you always wear
And the way you'd lace your fingers
Through mine and press your lips
To my hand before whispering "goodnight"

I should be working on something
But the first thought on my mind
Is of you
As is the second
And all that follow