Tree Line
 We live above the tree line
If we stand tip toe we can Reach into the Milky Way and run our fingers Around the rim of that chocolate pot Others call the Black Hole
This night is made for walking Holding your hand having a crescent moon Laugh down on us
There are things flying around Even at this height where it should be So cold only ice and snow grow
Yet there is something evergreen About this love that I offer you
















