Walks alone with you,
my hand holding yours
best when counting from sixty-two,
sixty-two minutes along this sandy shore.

A silent gesture,
a smile from ear to ear
all the more becomes sure,
sixty-two hours, love is sheer.

The wind against your hair,
bologna and cheese on your lip.
Deeply spellbound by your stare,
sixty-two days we've tightened our grip.

Walks alone with you,
my hand away from yours.
Love drifting away by the bayou,
Sixty-two weeks, here comes a detour.