Dancing fingers.
The swish of a pen.
A half open window.
A breeze off a river.
Warm spring day,
with the sounds of birds.
Swaying trees,
that leave shadows on paper.

A small room.
A small girl.
Eyes wide with words.
A desk and a chair.
A bed right behind her.
Her fingers dance to the drum of the pen.
Soprano birds sing through the half open window,
a sweet melody for the dance.
Applause is carried,
on the shaking leaves,
and on the breath of the girl,
comes a song.

River song. River song.
The sweet sounds you make.
River song. River song.
You bend and don't break.
River song. River song.
Teach me your whispers.
River song. River song.
As you've taught all your sisters.

For after you lies an ocean,
to faraway lands,
And behind you the streams,
of a thousand rains.
So would you, river song,
teach me your whispers.
So would you, river song,
teach me the dance of our sisters.