Here's to the gardeners who grow it.
At the flower festival they show it.
In full bloom for all.
Here's to the tailors who sew it.
Upon the city gent they throw it.
Fitted smooth and proud.
As seen in the crowd.
Here's to the pilots who fly it.
Goggles magnificent in pursuit of it.
Dive bomb 1-2-3 hundred and sixty degree.
A life flash by in front of thee.
Here's to the poets who know it.
Inscribe in rhyme for the flow of it.
The time and the mood.
Waltzing words interlude.
Here's to the musicians who play it.
Orbital orchestra, tea dance and trumpet.
The bongo beating heart of love.
The vaulted voice of an angel above.
© MARCO MOONE 2008