It was al
most time
to close
Montgomery's bookstore
I was dusting up the window display
When a young man in a tattered
jacket smiled at me and said,
You're gonna see my books
in here some day.
He walked me home, I asked him in,
we talked till way past three.
When the sun came up that morning,
he was lying next to me.
He was a writer and his first
love would always be his pen
I knew it, but I loved him and
I'd do it all again
He was a writer,
there was magic in every word he said
And our story was the
sweetest I ever read
At night I'd find him at the kitchen table
With papers scattered round
him left and right
I'd touch his neck while
blowing little kisses in his ear
Then he wouldn't write
another word all night
But a letter from the man in
New
York
City came
and then I watched him pack I'm afraid
that he'd be coming back again
he was a writer and his first
love would always be his pet
I knew it but I loved him and
I knew it all again
he was a writer there was magic
in every word he said
And our story was
the sweetest I ever read
It was al most time to close
Montgomery's bookstore
I was put ting out some
new books on display
When that young man in the tattered
jacket smiled at me again
From the cover of his book that came today
All the dedication in my name
Was where I prayed that it would be
But
Lord they're only words
I need him right here loving me
But he was a writer and his first love
Would always be his pen
I knew it but I loved him
And I'd do it all again
He was a writer that was magic
in every word he said
And our story was the sweetest I ever read
Oh, he was a writer,
and his first love would always be despair
I knew it, but I loved him,
and I'd do it all again
He was a writer that was magic...