and the ground is soft as it should be here,
eleven minutes past midnight on new years eve.
you've seen me for who I should be,
in all my sweaty palms, broken stars, and pillowed moons.

and I see you for who I could be,
a kind hearted, celestial, tall glass of admiration.
ending and entering more years that could be
more ours if you'll so thoughtfully see through.

and if you'll still smell your tropical breeze best
singing in the Honda with me as we will be
in the next years I can drive you to the airport
as you kiss me down where we should be,

humming old jazz tunes like we could be,
and I'm telling you that we will be
on the hard grounds again
in Jacksonville, Florida.