I often think that someday,

Your hand I'll hold in mine.

That we'll walk down a path,

With roses on a vine.

The sky above will be blue,

With little clouds of white.

And we can look from off a hill,

To the sun setting for the night.

The stars above will light for us,

The path we'll walk home by.

Then I can kiss you on the lips,

Beneath a moon lite sky.

Look Grammer in my poems.