It’s called that
when you return
for Christmas
It’s called that
when a house
shows off its charms
It’s called that
when aliens try
to phone the stars
I find it anywhere
that you’re in my arms
We like it more if it’s made there
and not from the store
It’s sweet in the middle
sometimes it’s a chore
Even when we burn our dinner
and set off all the alarms
I still find it anywhere
that you’re in my arms
No matter
where the sundown finds us
slumbering afar
I still find it anywhere
that you’re in my arms