They tried to make things beautiful, 
Most years, they'd change a room -- 
They hung lights and placed furniture 
To stem the backyard gloom 

And we were rich, as some would reckon, 
Three kids, mom, and dad: 
We owned a house, we owned some things, 
But love was the best we had.

My father fought in Vietnam, 
My mom was raised in sorrow; 
We didn't owe a lot, my folks 
Were rather loth to borrow -- 

And things were calm, as some would see it, 
Yet we had seen loss: 
And though they made things beautiful, 
They felt it worth the cost 

To sit outside and watch the lights, 
Together, with the birds, 
And tell us that they loved us, though 
That wasn't said 

In words