Flowershop

All those nights talking until the sun

And despite, the mess, you're none other than

Private rhymes delivered to no one but you

I still, flip through, your picture book, at times

And then I cry, and then I smile, put on the nicest clothes I can find

And I spy, with my little eye, something that you would've liked

The view from this hilltop, is not quite the same

Young lovers, eavesdrop, remember the flame?

Without you, I'm nothing

Without you, I feel nothing