• If my red lips could dance, they'd twirl with you,
    Forever locked in elegant ballet.
    Like feathers fluttering through skies of blue,
    On stage of green, the cues no need to say.
    Oh, wind in nests of trees reaching to breathe-
    The thinner air where ballerina's soar.
    For them to kiss the lips of blooming trees,
    While the fine earth below look to adore.
    If man is on their toes, to grasp the sky,
    Then such shall lovers find a fresher gasp,
    Into the lungs of lonely branches, sigh,
    To feed a home for singing birds to clasp.
    An ecosystem circled in our kiss,
    Creating winds to sail in loving bliss.