Tropic treasure

I called her Tropic treasure.
She could save me, I had to admit.

She was disproportionate to reality.

Had that Jesus way of being.

She had a cadence rather than a rhyme.

Not in time, quite.

I was kookaburra to her,

Whatever her Dreaming was.

I can't remember.

If a song mentioned a girl

I'd sing that lyric thinking of her.

Eyelids closed, drunk on wine.

She was disproportionate to reality.

Had a cadence rather than a rhyme.

I called her Tropic treasure.

Once she was mine.