Chamomile

Sweet Spring Arkansas
Folds the smoky chamomile into my cup of dusk
If I came home would you still tuck me into bed;
Sweet Spring Arkansas?

To you, my southern bell
Ringing half a world away
You wake me from my wishing well
When you get home, won’t you come on back to bed;
You, my southern bell?

Cause when I’m all alone
I start to wonder where it is
That I should build my resting home
If you ever find a home, won’t you tuck me into bed;
Sweet spring wanderlust?