The words, they sing and dance for me;
They want to be my history.
They sometimes come so easily,
My own poetic alchemy.

Time again they want to be
Something not quite lost to me,
And I let them comfort me,
Living poetic alchemy.

My life sometimes flies by me
And words I pick like from a tree,
But other times I cannot see
Hints of poetic alchemy.

Just try sometime to be me
And you will find that you can see
Sometimes your heart will be
Its own poetic alchemy.