If I drew you all the pictures that I could
and if I took the wings of larks
could I send my song into your soul?

I hold my paintbrush for you, on the nights that it gets cold
and I wish that you were here to drink your tea
with me


I think I could have written you a novel if I kept all that I wrote
and in my dreams I'm braver, better, better to be left at home

I think the storm is passing but then again we hardly speak
Perhaps it would be better is I stayed quiet one more week


and I'll spend tonight deciding if I tell you or if I sleep
it gets harder to be sure I'm saying exactly what I mean
Maybe in the morning, things will be much clearer than they were

but I've kept your letters waiting, I'm still waiting to be sure

In this mood I am reminded of all the things we've said and done

and if the rain keeps falling, i don't think that i will ever miss the sun
I'll stay quiet in the greenness and the solitude of spring
it'd be nice if I could tell you all the comfort that you bring


I'm a little scared to show you, but I've written you a note
thoughts i've thought of when you're doing all the things you love the most

It's important, and it's perfect, and it's gentle, and it's sweet
I guess I'm saying that I'm thankful that we got to meet