She looked like a prophet, Like she knew where she was walking. Id follow her in a heartbeat, Though I know she is blind.
She felt to me like a fire, in a hearth, That is always kept burning, Or a scorching star sending letters to Three million lightyears in the future.
She smelt wet like the summer Like pools gathered from the slow trickle of rain, resting in the valleys carved between mountains by ancient streams that giants bathed in.
She tasted older than civilisation, like the medicine, in the bark and the sap, Like the soft sweet fruit in the tree, And the poison in the thorns on the branches And the blood that ran down my arms as I climbed.