they're selling christmas trees on broadway for $80.
Boston and the freezing cold
New World Symphony and the rich sap of a cellist.
oh how I wish I were a cellist.
now a morning of baking bread . . . the noises of the city quieted on a Sunday
I think I'm in love.
that part makes me smile outloud
the dough sticks to my hands
its worth squeeling about,
worth singing christmas songs loud as I dance through crowds,
worth going to the top of the empire state building and shouting it to the world
worth waking up just to let it sink in all over again - my breath a sigh of contentment
all the things that fill me up inside are still not as good as love