The Rare Occasions — Bug Eyes

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The street was buzzing low as darkness wove around
One of those nights that float a foot above the ground
She stood close to him, moonlight cast across the square
And smiled softly as a hush fell through the air
And he said “don’t give me those bug eyes”

They carried on the way an oak collects its rings
Another chapter written every passing spring
And as the skies lit up with auburn, red, and merrigold
She saw in his face the fact that they were growing old
And he said “don’t give me those bug eyes”
“don’t give me those bug eyes”

There comes a time we all must place our pencils down
Maybe tomorrow maybe fifty years from now
When he came home from what what meant to be a routine test
She knew at once and felt a sinking in her chest
And he said “don’t give me those bug eyes”
“don’t give me those bug eyes”