You make me smile and I bring you waffles
there are roses in a jar and the coffee’s whistling,
hidden once more under the blankets
I read you stories from the morning paper
and Steve ran out and is waking up the neighbors…

Your opera stance is mostly garbage
but you have all of Mark Knopfler on vinyl
and that’s really fine for my dancing skills blow,
but when out walking our steps rhyme
and when indoors crying it’s like everybody died…

You worry too much where I imagine crazy stuff
and it’s bad for cholesterol and for both our hearts
but you make me smile and I make you pies,
I am an ungrateful bastard every once in a while
so I write you poems and you tend to forgive…

“Your mistakes are your best teachers”
no word about chicken in your fortune cookies
so I promised to stay up to the journey’s end,
when you look up at me I get warm and fuzzy
and hands lock like lovers on that bridge in Köln…

You gave me a painting and so many books to read
I have the plant you brought to groom and grow
and I live in France and have croissants everyday,
there’s a place you also love where I’d like to go
it’s up in the mountains not far from home…