But Ginger Is.

Almost scary.

You jump out of the water, to catch and swing me around.

This is a trick for balmy eyes, as I see cocktails that carry the word of

fake wisdom that mingles with the chords every once in a while.

I am knocking on wood when the past brings itself over.
But I know my past, Lavander.

And up here I can smell your intentions made of honey at the tip of your star.

But Ginger is moving my heart today and forever, easily just by saying

'I'm here.'

So, Lavander, tell your children I say:

"the weather is not improving, rather my senses are."

After all, you were almost scary.