Do you wanna know,
where poetry is made?
Under trees and bridges,
sitting in the shade.
It is made
on long weary walks,
with no one but a good companion,
and all your tiny thoughts.
I think that it happened,
when you fell into the creek.
You filled my life with sunshine,
where before it was so bleak.
When you tell me that I'm crazy,
but you follow me anyway.
Oh, but these have got to be
the very best kind of days.
Your words and your laughter,
seem to me just like a song.
And I am so happy
that I brought you along.
I really hope this feeling
never goes away.
And when we're super old,
I'll look at you and say:
"Yes, I knew it when I saw the water -
and by the way you looked at me,
that right there in that moment,
we'd made some poetry."
