I made it home before the sunset
and I saw you sitting.
beyond beauty are the words that came
blonde and brilliant are the songs that sang.

I can't believe in chirps of birds
or the light on bark between the haze.
I can, however, believe in your loving grasp
and the way you speak in words unknown.

we've yet to pick a plot
where donkey's "hee-haw" and chickens "bok bagok",
and where the grass grows green and tall;
where kids may learn to walk.

you've not read these words
or known of their existence
but in time you will;
know my loving grasp

and words you knew to know.