Ear to ear and page to page you smile with such good grace. You softly, sullenly, face then follow me through every season and back again. Through the wilderness between our houses from morning to Morningside. A forfeit for a Valentine is only right. Home again, the lights are blazing, but keep your powder dry. And softly, solemnly, face then follow me, with every dash of cinnamon I think of you. From sky to sand, to sea, to Meadowlands, to Halloween, to happier times. When you had history on your side and I had only hate on mine. But I was alive. I was alive. I was alive.