He had hair like leaping horses,
Golden brown of treasures took by skies
And he smiled
Like he knew

He had eyes like ruby fingers,
Fiery bright and reaching for me
Long and sharp of meticulous greed and
Hungry.

He had lips like hurricanes spoke of
Natural, free, loose or wild
His words sprung from him as they yearned to be free
Yearned to write poems.

He knew not, but he had totems
Crafted in the world for him
One called future, one called lessons
One called battle, the call-all of hope

He told me one day I had eyes of redbirds
I laughed and said the same
For in this poem we speak to each other
In this poem he shares my name.