Do you still think of those whistling
western winds?
They took us across the lilacs, near Luxembourg.

And in a chestnut canoe
glowing in fine amber light,
I found a thousand reasons to dream.

But for you, I ever ever rowed
into the season of a technicolor tide.

And when you and I
are but a memory of the sea,
our laughter will always float on
into great eternity.

Next Chapter: #3