Tip of My Tongue

Bundled and sheltered from frostbite, from sparks a flame did soon ignite

Just disregard we're still in the backyard

She's offering me some insight, I nod to not seem impolite

Beneath the parch, we sit and dine on starch

As all those little thoughts in my head just fade away

I feel it in each fiber that I must say her name

I ask her, trying not to bite, isn't the moon beautiful tonight

With grace and charm to that of a smoke alarm

Her face and smile gleaming bright, she says there's no moon within sight

And that so far she seeing only stars