I sit alone staring into a world i do not know ,
or call my own .
For The pitter. patter of the rain ,
the song of the birds are a song unknown.

For her breath with mine was once so entwined ,
her hair once dangled before my eyes,
so elequent ,
yet so divine .
Yet her perfume on her lips I drank like the finest of wine
now vanished in a blink of time .

And so I sit in this chair of mine awaiting the sun ,
to shine ,
she was everything to me .
Divine .

For the song bird had never felt so sweet ,
as when with the daintiest of flowers ,
and her enchanting smile ,
she kicked off her shoes ,
and we jived a soda pop ,
a diddly dop at the local hop !

And O it is not yet spring and the storms of winter must
wither and fade ,

and as the rays of the sun shine on ,
Ice cream floats ,
and boats pass by ,
we will kick off our shoes and jive some day as the Ferrys sail by.

Then when the sun sinks behind the mount ,
It’s golden colours now all array ,
our Ferry shall we board on that day ,
and sail away under burning soda pop skies ,
where lilies dance in streams ,
far away ,
as we pass by .