There is a girl who gives me poems
In the night or early morning
I hear her silent whisper
Calling my soul away from
The night to the lovely dawn

The girl she gives me my poems
She is a distant dream
No phrases can match her
No metaphors or similes
Let her float in the skies
For another eerie night
The girl with the words of my poems
Her magic is violent
A collision of galaxies
Like my thoughts are dust
Her breath is the light in stars
The poet in me is free as
Her touch varies in degrees
The girl like the words of my poems
She left me no rule to follow
Making and unmaking me again
A silent trail of woven words
Like petals strewn on the roads
To the palace where she rests
A path the poet must take always She is the girl of my poems.