I could tell you that I miss you
Guitar string twang heart throb
I would be singing truths
These mountain tops, their inhales never stop
Pulling in what I give then blowing out through spiral spun honey hair and budding trees
Early spring has me humming little bees lapping up your nectar
Hot coffee in the morning reminds me of steamy midnight windows
Curled up next to your memory mid-winter
Keeping the wolves at bay
Now the bogs are calling to bright sunny days
And the only thing I'm guilty of is asking you to stay