Our Songs

It Had to Be You
Well, you're eighteen already, aren't you?, she asked me.
Not exactly. How old are you, then? Seventeen in March.
She lived fifty-eight years more, mother of four,
Grandmother of seven.
An interior designer; she decorated my life.

Where or When
One of Scarsdale's beautiful people,
Private school and trust fund, and two failed marriages.
She started an email romance, but lost her nerve.
Laid down no touching rules on weekend visits.

I've Grown Accustomed to Her Face
She wandered in to my Alpha class; said little.
Heiress, benefactor, author, founder of a homeless shelter.
Her life is a constant pursuit of Jesus, always dashing to
another religious event.
She is a devoted church friend; a younger sister in Christ.

You'd Be So Easy to Love
A tiny blonde, spreading pixie dust to whomever she met.
Captured my heart, a diamond ring, and held them tight.
Soured by family problems, she broke the engagement.
Said she didn't want to bury a third husband. Kept the ring.

Some Enchanted Evening
You never hug me, she said. So I did.
Stay overnight, she said, instead of driving home so late.
Sold my house, moved right in. Marry me, I said.
So she did. We are a handsome couple.