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
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