In The Skies. Poem by Derrick Andrews

She lives for me,
She dies for me,
She gives for me,
She cries for me.

In some ways, she provides for me,
She'd commit a genocide for me.

All she wants to see,
Is smiles from me.
She's made me who I've aspired to be.

I thank her for the love she gives,
In every breath she breathes, it lives.

It grows,
It sees,
It knows,
It grieves.

But most of all, it's holding me.
It always is remolding me.

It's revealed to her, the man she loves,
The black bird, feeding hungry doves.

She sees right through my evil eyes,
Beyond my haunted, reddened skies.

She sees inside,
Where I have cried.
And tends to me,
When I confide.

She mends my shattered, broken heart.
Repairing all that's been apart.

I'm grateful just to hold her hand,
And walk beside her on the land.

And just as sure as a blue bird flies,
I will be with her, in the skies.