In my fingerprint, the thirteenth groove from the nail,
The one that curves neatly, until it breaks
(A scar, I think)
That's you.

There is a braincell in my skull that is red, not grey:
Red for love; red for anger; red for that STOP light that made me stall
(The kind of complete stop that scrambles up your nerves)
That's you.

Every eighteenth heartbeat is you.
Every flex of my left hand little finger is you.
Every wish on a lost eyelash, carried away by salty currents, is you.
Every swiftly sheared blade of grass  is you.
Every nerve ending in my lower lip is you.
Every cell of oxygen is you.

You are
Every
Hope
Every
Fear
Every
Dream
I ever had.

Put simply into words that in the end, are nothing;

You are everything to me.

Oh no here comes another one.
A bleeding heart it's true.
A hippie from the sixties,
She'll talk till she turns blue.

Peace is her main subject.
Her hearts worn on her sleeve.
That crazy woman and her cats.
She wants me to believe.

Believe that there's another way
to keep this world from fighting.
Another way to save the earth,
A earth with less dividing.

We all call her crazy,
She wants so much for peace.
She talks about it night and day.
She even tells the geese.

Her clothes are old and tattered.
Her shoes are not unique,
She buys them at the Five and Dime.
A straw hat makes her look complete.

She grows a great big garden.
She works in it every day.
Then she keeps what she can eat,
And gives the rest of it away.

She does not have a lot of money,
Or drive a nice big car.
So when she's taking on the world, you see,
She doesn't get to far.

So watch out for her, her she comes,
She's out to change the world.
She'll have to do it one block at a time,
Oh wait, was that a cape unfurl?

(And so she flew around the world)