A gift’s golden savior is thought

and Aina Maria’s a gift

of which all day I’ll go thinking

of Aina and Aina’s two lips. A tulip, a tulip,

a rose, and arising from rosy white cheeks

comes all the dreams I’ll be dreaming

of Aina when I fall asleep. Of Aina

a mystery poem, of Aina, that I’ll never show,

of Aina, I know I’ll be writing, for Aina

these words I bestow. And best be written beautifully

and overtly kept in plain sight

for Aina’s the reason I’m leaving this world

and flying away every night. Aina Maria, and often,

I’ll feel her name on my tongue, Aina Maria to say it

is a world of wonder-full fun. To wonder myself, Dear Aina,

will you ever receive all my words? Dear Aina

to not would be treason, as a bird who goes without worm.

So please, my Aina Maria, and Aina Maria, I’ll say,

that Aina Maria, you’ll notice,

my love runs true through your name.

And Aina Maria I’ll say it, dear Aina and Aina Marie,

I’ll find you a place in my heaven

if you promise you’ll love lowly Me.