I'm a terrible songwriter, but Karen is a wonderful friend.
I told her I had a week off work and that I would probably be spending it at home, sulking.
And she just said, "Come on over"
Like that."
She had only one warning to make: "In Winter, this place hibernates"
I told her her town was a butterfly, waiting for Summer to flutter her glittery wings.
She told me my poetry sucked.

[From Lemma Soft Forums]