Bus stop, wet day,
she's there, I say,
"Please share my
umbrella."
Bus stop, bus goes,
she stays, love
grows
under my umbrella.
All that summer we
enjoyed it,
wind and rain and
shine.
That umbrella we
employed it.
By August, she was
mine.
Every morning I
would see her
waiting at the stop.
Sometimes she'd shop,
and she would show
me what she'd
bought.
All the people
stared as if we were
both quite insane.
Someday my name and
hers are going to be
the same.
That's the way the
whole thing started.
Silly, but it's
true.
Thinking of a sweet
romance
beginning in a
queue.
Came the sun the ice
was melting,
no more sheltering
now.
Nice to think that
that umbrella
led me to a vow.
