One day the driest desert asked
A poet for a simple verse,
A poem he could understand:
And so she wrote a song of seas.
The second day the skies and clouds
Asked for an easy piece to read,
A poem light and full of air:
And so she wrote a song of caves.
The trees requested forest words:
She wrote a desert song for them.
The night demanded darker thoughts:
The song she sang was made of sun.
She sang the moments of her soul,
The saddest joy that was her own.