Phrases hang in the sky
words grow on a tree
ideas float on water
it's all ordinary to me

Grass is the parchment
on which I write stories
my thoughts a jar of ink
I use to describe the glories

The world is my sketchbook
full of imaginary tales
which I still have to write
unhidden by any veils

The pen is my greatest love
which I play by hand
my stories, I bind them together
in the boundless poets land