She lies on the boughs of a great old tree;
Singing low from somewhere you can't see.
The words flowing in the sweetest melody.
She is but the goddess of poetry.
She sneaks into your dreams in the darkest night,
In the form of nothing but pure light.
She takes you by the hand to show you how
To see what others can't in the world around.
She shows you life and she shows you love.
You know she must be from somewhere above.
She is both your talent and your muse;
She is all the words you want to choose.
She's the rushing river through the snow,
The warm wind in the prairie's blow.
She's the cloud that passes through the sky.
She is the truth hiding in the lie.
She is water and she is wine.
She's an oxymoron by design.
She is peace and she is war.
She is from wealth yet she is poor.
She is hope and forgotten dream.
Though she still remains unseen;
She is there hiding up in that tree.
She is the goddess of poetry.