Unplucked Weed

The fighter who fights each battle
Everyday, inside him, on the ground
Rises before the Sun
And melts down as the morning dew
He belongs to the ocean,
Garden of my mind,
Shadows over me
During my hardest times,
Like those tall trees.
Just an unplucked weed,
Grew enough to climb my window,
Standing so strong and gorgeous,
He listens to my melodies
Swims across the ocean of my tears
Of tears, and joy.
He looks at the night sky, the stars
How they shine through the night.
He, who opens up and shuts down,
He embraces me with his warmth.
At least in my wildest dreams,
I wish he be my comrade.