I’m coming home, in the morning, as the first light of golden rays greets dawn and the song of nightingale sweeps through the air. With hair as fine as silk, in cotton dress, of floral. Her chocolate eyes and creamy thighs, bare in the summer sun. I’ll be home in the morning my love, when the sea’s tide rises and the scent of wood fire burns. I’ll be home darling, await my return.