Canvas, rebel, free bird, a tall tall tale
Lover’s slave, handheld sister, the friend with many faces
Lover of country roads and farm houses, night time I speak its name, lover of my waiting home
Who feels sorry for one to brush anger onto a four-year old canvas, feels for blue oceans and warm breeze to give that me chill, to lie on crunchy, fall leaves
I need a crew’s power to bring me a shore, a leader’s leadership, two friends and a sister’s truth speaking self
Fear knocks at my door, makes telephone calls to my phones, writes on the mirror after a steamy shower
Who gives everything but herself
Places I wish to become Ireland, Scotland, Germany, and Japan and home again
My place to belong in the arms of someone who loves me, piled on the loveseat with ten different personalities of all walks of life