Simple

In the warm evening of April
It is uncommonly warm
And everywhere women cleave to their men
Men eye their women
In preparation for
Consummation and the Harvest of love

At around this time
When the red clouds speak of the sun's going to bed
I see Your face, and I long for you
Maybe we could walk by the running stream
Maybe we could stop and get something to eat
Maybe I could be with you tonight

There are some things I want to say
That I couldn't say before
And now
Now I can