The leaves on her branches
They hang there so loosely...

It's seven chosen colors
With overlapping hands...

A bond among two
That's made for life...

It's those cracks that let the light in
Those holes that keep us humble...

I can tell you goodbye
And look you in your eye...

Her petals glisten with morning dew
It's such a fine sight to see...

Her voice is like the wind
So soft and so gentle...

Poets need their space
That white fiber paper...

She's like a spray can
That's ready to explode...

He dwells inside my head
The creator of my dreams...

I can takes a pen and paper,
I can fill it full of words...

Oh voices oh voices
Inside of my head...