put on your internet mittens
'cause, Baby, it's cold out there
in spite of the millions of kittens
there's a definite chill in the air

i may never read what you've written
it's not that i don't love your wares,
i'm only eternally smitten
by outdoors, green trees, and fresh air

so keep writing, Baby, go faster
it's writing that makes writing great
if you stop it would be a disaster
so stick it, you know, it's your fate

You used to lose me in the rose garden
in the misty maze of paths we knew by heart
I'd look for you down by the waterfall
on the bench by the oaken arbor

I hope you'll find me there again one day
peeking out from behind the tangled thorns
intoxicated by aroma's perfect rosary
dance a ring-a-rosy with you once more