He’s confusing
         I sure am stumped
                As if a puzzle came to life.
  Unlike a book
          I can’t read him
                 Maybe I don’t speak his language
   Yet I still try
          Which proves that I care
                  And I’m not scared
    Because people aren’t open books
           You have to discover them on your own
                     I love that one person could be
    Rocks to me
             And gold to you
                    Even a crescent moon
     And what I see in him is a tree
               With moss, with roots, with leaves
                     Don’t cut it down
     Because someone out there might want
          To plant a thousand more seeds
   From your sprout
                     And grow a society of trees.