The first day of the rest of our life
For which with you the best summing up
Is pain, joy, love, a little strife
But love always anyway – you’re nice
I don’t need being told that twice.
The sweet-peas that she gathers
Are destined for some jar
She walks the garden, scissors in hand...
Here the powdered snow falls fast
Like drops of doubt onto our faith
It does not settle, cannot last...
