It's sweet.
The taste.

It's sweet
The feeling

It's sweet
Because it is...

I can't climb tress.
My knee hurts.

Ah well
It's sweet.

Where are you going, where have you been?
Don't goo....stay...please. Your bus...bahhaaa

My dear, close, and quiet friend,
As we sit in the soft springtime Saturday's end
Taking comfort in each other once again.

Tell me your stories and I'll tell you mine;
How are you? How was your day? Honey...
And so we will pass a few hours time
With the quaint and the comic and even sublime -
Silently searching for that elusive sign.

We'll fashion the future and polish the past,
Allowing the memories to amass;
While the grains of sand slip through the glass
'Til a tranquil lull pervades at last.

Conversation fades with the eve's golden light,
We cannot go on, try though we might;
So you gather me an embrace so tight,
And we wistfully, longingly say goodnight.

ahhh....
It's nice Sweet