from Home Again
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When you pick a sprig of balsam pine,
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On your hike along the mountain view,
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You can wrap the scent in corduroy,
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And bring the mountain home with you.
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When you sit beside the ocean's edge
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And dream of what might come to be,
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Your fingers keep the taste of salt,
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From the castles made beside the sea.
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I'm lonely at work now,
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My hand holds my chin.
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And my mischievous fingers remind me,
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And cover my grin.
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The scent takes me dreaming,
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To wildberry pie,
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And the wind hits my sails
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With the sound of your trembling sigh.
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When we work to make a berry pie,
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lips can tell where we have been,
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Out picking huckleberries wild,
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to bring the harvest home again.
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And on the way we sang a tune,
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what I said is what I meant,
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Our love is like a red, red rose--
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it leaves a certain subtle scent.
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I'm lonely at work now.
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My hand holds my chin,
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And my mischievous fingers remind me and cover my grin
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The scent takes me dreaming,
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of wildberry pie,
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And the wind hits my sails with the sound of your trembling sigh.
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And the wind hits my sails with the sound of your trembling sigh.
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¨Ï David Wilcox, all rights reserved
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Wildberry Pie
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| David Wilcox |
