| It's not at the end of the long winding path that may go through the rows of blooms, Its not part of a mansion, nor built in the shade It's not even one of the rooms. You cannot see it from the window's view as you ponder the garden below.... You cannot smell the fresh breath of spring Nor plant flowers in pots to grow.... Its a special place where you talk with your friend When the sun comes up, The noon arrives, or perhaps at evenings' end. There's lilacs and lace ... its a glorious place... With buttons, bustles and bows To share some tea .... some company and to enjoy how the friendship grows... Victorian dresses ....and long curled tresses are just some of the beauty you'll find... There's nothing so fair as the time you spend there There's not another place of its kind. You'll find some tears perhaps on cheeks that usually glow with the sun, Or hold the hand that needs a touch Or wipe the eyes that run.... A gentle hug, a smile and a laugh Perhaps to brighten up your day .... There's happiness in there... with times to share So much, in every way. Plenty of warmth when the time is right And lots of hands to hold you tight. You can't visit there just by walking on by There's no door to be seen anywhere. But its certainly a place, filled with elegance and grace And a favourite and comfy soft chair. At the click of a button and a view of a screen You will find the friends so dear Visit, drink tea, bake cookies or talk They are always ever so near. Sit gently upon the chair, comb your hair... look your best... Maybe just come as you are... We're always here.... to share your day ... No matter how close or far. At the end of the day as you pass this way You are bound to have found a smile It brings us all closer from around the world.... and lessens each long, country mile. |
| To the beautiful girls who share my day and have made my new life here in North America so much richer. |
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