If you were a mountain,
I'd clamber to your rocky peak,
giddy in the air up there,
No piece of your heath
I'd wish to tweak.

If you were a preacher
I'd listen intent,
Each noun so prounounced,
Hands pressed together,
on the floor, bent.

If you are the sunshine,
I'll dismiss all the shade,
In search, as if to find,
I'd stare into you,
Willing to go blind.

If you were a house,
I would live in you,
lavish each little nook,
Turn all the lights to full,
Illuminated, like a child's story book.

don't suppose for a moment,
That you're not the seven seas,
paddle through you in my row boat,
Touching, glide with ease.