Our love is made of coffee mugs,

A house that isn’t big enough,

And all these happy, autumn thoughts;

When you are here with me.

 

Our love is fire, slow with need,

A never-aging willow tree,

And here is where I’ll never leave;

When you are here with me.

 

Our love is necessary air,

A spark that makes judgment impaired,

It’s a perfect little love affair;

When you are here with me.

 

Our love is fading, burning out,

A candle flame under a cloud,

My insides are breaking, screaming out;

When you are here with me.

 

Our love has went and walked away,

A gypsy gone before mid-day,

My mouth now has nothing to say;

Except that you aren’t here.