Dearest, while I'm singing 17 songs for you

And holding you up toward the ceiling

I'm wiping your smiling lips

A deepest smile on mine when I see your mouth

And yes it's my willingest work to carry your stuff as if it's mine

Up a stream or up a tree

With you I'd rush up busy streets yelling "Uh oh! Uh oh!"

We aren't cars and have no shoes but we don't care

Deepest, while you enter you're accompanied by the hugest of songs

And also, dear, as you enter

Out rush my happiest ghosts

Whom you've so cleverly stirred

So deftly. So strangely. So much.

And whom could be so many men for you

Whom could be so many homes