Fold me like you always have,
Run your nails to set the creases,
Shape me to the form you crave,
Bend me into the art of your wishes,

My form forever yours to toy with,
I conform to your will and desire,
Expose my surfaces, above or beneath,
I will always be there for you to admire,

I can be flexible or I can be stiff,
That depends on what you want,
I am here to help fill your rift,
The one who says you can when you can’t,

Craft that which you seek of me,
I am but your art, your origami.

She was like the sun,
Or so I thought.

As I set my eyes awide,
She was more than what met the eye.

A bed of moss with dewdrops and white flowers,
Underneath a gentle spring morning, she sat.

Troubled wind gushing over autumn leaves,
She dances wildly over a carpet of hues.

Silent rain with sorrow pours unbidden,
She finds her shelter on boughs awaiting a gentle pause.

Of all the facades she may hold,
I see her a little, through the cracks of the mask.

For the first time ever,
Seeing this girl of yellow hue,

She was like the sun,
As my soul had seen her all along.

She attracted, tolerated,
illuminated and controlled everything around her,
And I was happy to be at her mercy