They asked me what
my heaven would look like.
At first I hesitated in
a fear of being blasphemous.

Then I said that heaven
would be a thousand
Sunday mornings with
fresh sheets and a pretty girl.

It would be that summer hit
on an endless loop
from the year we thought
would never cease to end.

Perhaps it would be
back on Lombard Street
back before my heart got heavy
and souls got dark.

Heaven will bring back
the innocents that was
lost, the same we thought
could never be returned.

Best of all heaven will be
you in a sundress;
young and smiling,
and completely free.