Dip into that valley of the unknown, caress its invisible colour.
Swim the pond of ache, smell its perfume.
Run with a hue of red and blue, hasten its purpling.
Dance with her, you must pursue.
Breathe deeply, stop all that panting.
Inhale the mists of Moher, warm in the droplets.
Exhale those thoughts of future, be not deceived by their tricks.
Relax with her, you must be here.
Learn to play those steel strings again, finger their romance.
Listen to lyrical music, harbour its heaven.
Heed to her informed instruction, respect its cadence.
Sing with her, you must bellow.
Let the vines tangle and extend, admire their flowerings.
Watch the green develop and flow, pick the roses you like.
Sit on that honey-yellow bench, ignore the buzzing.
Grow with her, you must flourish.
Offer to walk her to and fro, listen to the sound of every step.
Have faith she will lead you truly, that the pathway is pitless.
Touch her shoulder, feel its muscle—allow its voice.
Hold her hand, you must grip tight.
Leave to the place you ventured from, find your chair.
Untie those tight laces, ease their tension.
Release your kind hold on her waist, lament its decree.
Let her go. She must be free.
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