She takes me down streets to wharves and docks I've never seen
Through rough old streets that suddenly become charming and quaint
She pours out the day she brewed up using emotion, fear, excitement
It falls out in colors that relieve my mind and and dance on my imagination
Building some rustic verse that polishes itself into a clean clear lost memory
My tiny new zealand town such slang and vernacular brings noise and image
A tussel, a tear, a struggling embrace embedded in life
Horrofyingly real daring further surprises
testing the limits and provoking the cosmos with slim flowing verse
that wraps me tight in it's story and lulls my clumsy brain into a sense of peace
Aiofe what kind of pain are you using to purify us with
literally curing my nagging woes with the way your word to's and fro's
You have become my teacher my mentor
some obscure holy wit that echoes in mind
One moment it's a heavy mallet breaking me
Then it's kelp washed up and massaging me
When I recognize the voice an eerie feeling hits my temples
As if some old druid has worked her literary expression
So distilled and mystical just a stanza will get you tripping
falling into the tactile world created by an Irish legend
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