If life is hills and hollows
And a journey through the clouds,
I hope to always walk with her;
She sees pictures in the clouds.
When the wind has shown its teeth
And our coats are buttoned high,
She binds our hands with ribbon -
'Til the storm passes by.
She chases the yellow moon
Just to catch its beams.
She believes in woodland fairies
And lives between life and dreams.
I long for tea-cup moments
To discuss a nonsense thing.
She tells of polka-dot ideas
To change the world with a ball of string.