In every season you sing with my heart,
In simple words like skipping stones and natural cycles.

In hard truths and limitations,
In steep slopes and easy meadows.

I want to dip my pen in the inky pool of your right eye
And write a Gothic fairytale
That traces on harmonics
I've noticed in the sky's expanse.

A crisp image lives in my mind
A good person is never hard to find
You're a hand to hold,
A standing guard,
A fire inside.