The Green Chameleon

You are the perfect specimen, a changing green chameleon,

A wanderer of tales and tides you bring to me, my persimmon.

You love to travel with your feet; I see your footsteps in the sand.

I'll go with you, to find the lead, the horses all have gone to land.

To reap rewards we seek our fare, we dally here, we dally there.

You stub your toe and walk on by the feathers in the desert lair;

I'll follow in your footsteps rife with boulders under sun-burnt hand.

I hear you calling out my name when I am deafened by winded band

Of storm clouds harried out of dusk that break loose from the thunder skys.

And can you feel the lightening that I see that's thrown down from your eyes?