Of fried eggs over-easy,
Curry, tomatoes, and mayonnaise.
There is no hurry.
We've years to work it all out.
Hand me another napkin,
Ella, Astrid, and Miles make it move
The peaks will poke through clouds.
The falls will be cushy.
It's okay to relax our grip.
The train's not leaving the tracks.
And if the salsa on your salty chip
Bites your tongue a little too scarlet,
We can order mild.
It doesn't always have to burn.
We can always learn new ways.
Stretch across my red sofa.
Nevermind the mod podge patch.
Feel free to lean back.
We've a million heartbeats yet to go.