Suffer the stories to come unto me
and I will rewrite their endings,
heal them from their self-reliance,
and teach them new words to sing.
the melody will find itself
wherever their tongues may take them.
tell me a story, child,
of the roads your feet have seen,
and the tears your pillow collected,
because I'll bet they match my own.
I have built a you a home,
with stairwells that turn
and chandeliers and wind chimes,
where your smile paints the walls
a different color each day.
come and I will live in you,
and you will live in me.