The wind sings a joyous tune
It's wayward breath blowing across the trees
Pulling a single leaf from it's treetop perch
That I might pluck it from your hair

The setting sun is a resplendent orange
Burning into the hills and trees
Smearing red fire across the horizon
That I might squeeze your hand as we watch it's beauty

The burnt orange sky fade to a deep black
The stars appear shedding Crisp light on the land
The cold stare of the night cools the balmy air
That I might hold you close, and never let go