When I'm dejected, down- spirited, down hearted
She's right there inside of my mind
I'll pick up my pen and I'll scribble
On blank paper or sometimes on lined

I'll scribe about the misty mountains
And of majestic eagles soaring above
I'll tell stories of shattered dreams and promises
Compose verses of falling in love

Tales I will write of tomorrow
Of us and how we are fated
And of all of the times we'll share
When her sweet heart I have liberated

I'll weave beautiful words so intricately
That will leave her holding her breath
And create butterflies in the pit of her stomach
And a pounding deep in her chest

The thought of her inspires me
She's my poetry that I'd peruse
Without her I wouldn't pen half as much
I'm lucky I have her as my muse