If I held in my hand every grain of sand Since time first began to be Still I could never count measure the amount Of all the things you are to me If I could paint the sky hang it out to dry I would want the sky to be Oh such a grand design; an everlasting sign Of all the things you are to me You are the sun that comes on summer winds   You are the falling year that autumn brings You are the wonder and the mystery in everything I See. The things you are to me      Sometimes I wake at night and suddenly take fright You might be just fantasy But then you reach for me and once again I see All the things you are to me You are the sun that comes on summer winds   You are the falling year that autumn brings You are the wonder and the mystery in everything I See. The things you are to me      All the things you are… to me