Park benches, coffee, and cigarettes A morning picture with you Sometimes a book in hand, with my head on your lap and we would call it a nice day
On rainy days, we would curl up on the couch Blanket wrapped around us, and I would wear your most coveted gray hoodie. Switching tv channels, we would never find something interesting enough to watch We'd instead nap and still call it a nice day
We went to a Sunday mass once even if I never prayed since my grandma died I never believed much in anything, Not even in angels nor the saints But I wanted to believe you're a blessing. That Sunday was such a nice day