Your voice is like morning birds,
Even at night,
Mixing my blood up with your elixirs...
Prodding my soul with your fingers...

Your hair is a bushy brown wildflower
A drape for the face of a nymph,
Your spirit is made of wood
And your laughter is the highest music
Held up in beads by your eyes

We have very nearly the same color eyes
But our roots twist over different rocks and dirt
As our hands pull at the backs of both our shirts
And we kiss in our coves of the universe
And share each dripping word

And your voice
Is like the morning birds
And my heart is stirred awake
I'll bring the fullness of the day,
Just bring yourself to me.