While the withered page sets down its weary head,
and the children have all been tucked in bed,
The heart of the writer sings fair & true,
Its melody sweet & pure & new.

It's as if it started snowing rainbows
Down fifth avenue,
Or flooding yarn *****
with cats just out of view.

Zoom out of the scene with the kid at the zoo,
Who's seen a lion for the first time and a flamingo too,
To the lovers just a synapse away from saying
Those words people always imagine lovers saying...
But is that the beginning of the story, or the end?

Finding the beginning of the chapter is easy,
Who knows when they end?
Are we the authors?
The painters to fill in history with color?

Raise a glass to our hotel sushi picnic,
Ugly gingham curtains and squeaky old chairs,
To the look in your eye when I first held your stare.
I held my breath, you know.
Maybe you didn't.
You do now.

Even if it was snowing rainbows,
Even if it was raining from the sidewalk,
Even if it was blowing ***** of yarn down the road,
I couldn't take my eyes off of you.

Let's defy time
and space
and physics
and just be together.