She gave me Springtime, Friendship, and Rain,
and I sent her off to the clouds.
We wrote our poems of dreams that won't wane,
of being alone in the crowds.
We talked of work and personal things,
learning of each other's pleasures.
How even love can bring pain and stings.
At other times joy and treasures.
We learned something of friendship growing,
to appreciate one's feeling.
The seeds of goodwill we are sowing,
precious time alone we're stealing.
She must wonder what I want from her.
No more than she's willing to give.
I prompt myself to remember,
that she has her own life to live.
Music is "Crimson and Clover"br>
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