Quiona

Love we nearly threw away, you absolved and allayed, sunk troubles in the Bay, when the skies turn pink, you kept us reined, to calendars and catechism, away from teenage forays, lapping at our name, helped us on our way, answered difficult instincts, many have heard such tales, full of rouge and lipstick, and you took the blame, howled like a blowing gale, when problems raged, we give thanks the way you think, watch cafe's swell with rain, unshaven waiters at the sink, eye our celebration.