I'm that Mont Blanc snowball,
Paused at the summit.
I'd like to roll down
When I hear your call.

In that box, I'm that Jack,
Dreaming big, of outside.
I like the idea that
There's no going back.

I'm that stalagmite,
In that echoing cavern
And I like to sit here,
Incrementing my height.

I'm that unexpected
Friendly kiss
And I like the danger
Of what's unsaid.

I'm that anvil cloud
With a sun-framed seam
And I like to strike
Where I'm least allowed.

I'm that wasted pea
Twenty sheets below
And I like you, princess,
Weighing down on me.

I'm that butterfly
And I like my wings
And I'll bloody flap
'Til I learn to fly

Or the storm goes by.