The Still Pines

The still pines remind us of where we are, and where time has took us. September is now hear, my dear, and we're not getting any younger. As we sit by the pines, staring at the water, we think, we think, we think. the water starts to ripple, the pines start to breeze, a storm is coming my dear, lets go home. And we did, the storm passed and the pines were still ones more.