3 or 4

I call her, she answers, the rest comes easily

There's no one else who makes me feel quite the same

I call her, cause it's Sunday, and I've waited all week

To hear her smile shine through the vowels of my name

And I know that I will never call her mine

I'm not lying when I say that that's just fine

Is it strange to love her and want nothing more

Only dreamed about her two times

Or maybe three or four

I scroll through the pictures from back when we first met