I remember you singing at the top of your voice.

You wore a lilac sundress and marigolds in your hair.

I hid under the picnic blanket so you could not see the faces I was making.

Laughter, so much of it, followed your tune.

Till this day, I swear it was not the wine

but the way you sprawled on the hood of my '77 Camaro (no care in the world)

that made all my tears vanish, like magic.