Sweat tea and lemonade,
a wooden floor, filled with age.
The night sky and countless stars,
underneath which, held two hearts.
Radiant and delightful was she,
duly acquainted with the goddess of beauty.
And together they swayed for hours on end,
years later, even, though his memory grew thin.

No other girl could ever mean more;
in his eyes, he saw none, he swore.
Golden hair, she caught from the sun;
her eyes, from the sea, a prize she won.
The right partner for her, oh, would he make,
someday, may hers be the hand he takes.