to you i could write
letters of love
far out where the golden beeches glow
wrapped in silk
soft squirrel down
warm and wondrous by the pane
would you catch the thrill i hold
leaping up the tree-fungi
to a cottage made of dahlia pink
to you i could write
letters of love
far out where the golden beeches glow
wrapped in silk
soft squirrel down
warm and wondrous by the pane
would you catch the thrill i hold
leaping up the tree-fungi
to a cottage made of dahlia pink