PhishSecret Smile

Sometimes when the evening's young The wind dies down, the setting sun Crochets the clouds with yarn so fine And fills the oceans with red win The trees, the sky, the forest fair Bring a flavor to the air I raise my glass and in a while You answer with a secret smile Hold on, hold on to me An airborne leaf that landed near Has carried Dionysus here He'll slip away but only when He sees our glasses filled again © 2018