Come, weeping child and I will

Take your trembling hand

And put inside a fairy lake

To sail away from land.

Make yourself a home inside the

Trees on which the sky peeps

Braid your hair with sun ships

With masts that wind the weeps.

Dress in moons with ribbons which held

Paper birds to their nests

And watch weeds grow within your skin

As midnight gives you rest.

If there is a swing take it to

Heaven and loose the oars

Let the waves and braids fall

Until your bird heart soars.