It’s early in the morning, and the Autumn leaves are

Gold and red and brown.

They crunch beneath my shoes as I walk through this

Little Vermont town.

 

The air is brisk and filled with mist,

People smile and say hello,

There’s the wonderful smell of Maple syrup,

Everywhere I go.

 

The little cafe is busy with breakfast,

The stirring Of coffee cups, and laughter.

A stack of pancakes, orange juice,

And coffee’s what I’m after.

 

The waitress smiles and fills my cup,

She’s pretty and petite.

She asks, "What can I get for you?",

In a voice that’s soft and sweet.

 

With bright blue eyes and golden hair

That frames her angel face,

She’s a picture of perfection,

Wrapped up in silk and lace.

 

After breakfast she fills my cup,

And we begin to talk.

She says she’s going to take a break,

"Would I like to take a walk?".

 

I tell her I’m from California,

But my grandfolks lived nearby.

Right after they left Montreal,

In nineteen four or five.

 

"My grandpa was a blacksmith",

I told her with a grin,

"He lived and met my grandma

In a town they called Saint Lin".

 

Her family tree, this angel said,

Was planted in Vermont.

And living in this peaceful town,

Is all she’d ever want.

 

But I was here to trace my roots,

So I knew I couldn’t stay,

I told her I wanted to see her again,

If I came back this way.

 

Then the nicest thing that could happen,

Left me so I couldn’t speak,

When she put her arms around me,

And kissed me on the cheek.

 

I stood there in the silence as she

Walked back to the old cafe.

And thought to myself, "She knows that I’ll,

Be coming back this way!"

 

Glancing in the rear-view mirror,

As I leave the little town,

I see my future, see the place,

Where someday I’ll settle down.

 

The Maple trees fall far behind,

And hold in their embrace,

The wife of my tomorrow,

Dressed in silk and lace.

 

 

 

 

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