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She'll make your heart flutter, that's a fact, but she'll always be out of reach.
There have been many days, many days indeed, when I'll have her over to my old farmhouse for beans and rice. We'll have a nice time, good conversation, and often a nice little sit on the back porch swing, looking up at the stars. My heart fluttered. Oh, did my heart flutter. I'd invite her up to my second floor bedroom, the one with the canopy bed, and the energy between us was enough to electrify a whole neighborhood of houses. I'd sit on the bed, heart pounding, and beckon her over. Every time, a look of infinite sadness would drape itself over her pretty countenance, and she would just stare out the window, as if waiting for someone.
There have been many days, many days indeed, when I'll have her over to my old farmhouse for beans and rice. We'll have a nice time, good conversation, and often a nice little sit on the back porch swing, looking up at the stars. My heart fluttered. Oh, did my heart flutter. I'd invite her up to my second floor bedroom, the one with the canopy bed, and the energy between us was enough to electrify a whole neighborhood of houses. I'd sit on the bed, heart pounding, and beckon her over. Every time, a look of infinite sadness would drape itself over her pretty countenance, and she would just stare out the window, as if waiting for someone.
Elizabeth, honey, I'd say, please come away from there and tell me what is wrong.She wouldn't say a word, just sigh. Oh the sighs. I could almost see the sadness accompany her breath that fogs the window.
I cannot, she'd say. My heart belongs to another.
My own heart would break each time. But always I pursued her. Dinners of beans and rice. Songs on my guitar. She smiled enough. Until the end of the night, when she brought out that sadness and set it on the windowsill for all to see.
--Horatio Bean
