I'll be the beach to your sea,
And await your touch on my shore,
To take a little piece of me,
To rest upon your sandy floor.

I'll pluck the fruit of your tree.
Touch my lips to the tender flesh,
To take the taste deep into me,
And drink the juices sweet and fresh.

I'll be grass upon your grove,
Lie down into my cool embrace.
As the trees stand watch from above,
My dew wet touch upon your face.

I'll be the hive high above,
Tast my honey when you are weak
Call upon my sting, most beloved,
When the battle's end seems most bleak.

I'll be the voice to your song,
And send the call throughout the land.
To break the minds who think you wrong,
And back you when you take a stand.

I'll one face in the throng.
The one that smiles when you appear.
The one that knows where she belongs.
With love that almost equals fear.

Penned by my hand on the 17th of Chronos, in the year 257 AF.