Maybe it's her face, no makeup at allAs she tells me
she's not beautifulMaybe it's her hair, soft
golden and wind blownAs we drive through the streets
of
townIt could be all these thingsBut I think
it's her smileMaybe it's her laugh when she
throws back and sighsOr her eyebrows when I do
something
stupidMaybe it's her smell, the lotion she wearsOr how
my hands smell like country pear for daysYou know
it could be all these thingsBut I think mostly it is
her
smileCause I love to see her smile back at meAnd I
know she is happyMaybe it's her touch, the feel of
her handsWhen she puts her tiny fingers in mineMaybe
it's her eyes gently searching my soulStill nothing
stirs me like when I see those lips rolland I see her
smileCause I love to see her smile back at meAnd I
know she is happy