Do you think cotton grows on trees
Like money? Asked the farmer
To a man whose sack had ripped
And cotton fell and flew off in the wind.

And the man stooped to gather the few bolls he could catch,
And patched his sack with a bit or burlap twine.
The cold wind blew right through his soul,
And his fingers blistered,
But in his heart he sang a cotton pickin' song.

"The best things in life are the hidden things
That nobody dares to share,
Love between a certain pair of turtledoves,
Words the ear will never hear,
Songs that never get sung out loud
In the light of day.

The best lives are the hidden lives
The secret smiles
That no one else can see.
Only a few knowing souls can guess
The happiness of silent eyes,
The dress in the closet that never gets worn,
The love that blooms amidst the thorns
So quietly and so profuse,
And the most beautiful cotton
That never gets picked,
And money that never gets paid."

"Naw, you don't know what I'm talking about,"
I heard the old man sing.
"A mystery, a secret place, a very beautiful thing,
A hidden life, where love grows stronger,
Every single day."

-jenn