She is a whirlwind of chaos
Not afraid to live, to love, to fail, to feel every feeling there is
And give names to ones that haven’t yet been named.
She is a gorgeous mess of unsaid words,
quietly begging others to crawl insider her heart and live there for a while,
free of charge.
She is an illusion, a mystery,
master of reinvention, and a total perfectionist,
Who would never ask of others the same.
The world is gray,
and sometimes she is blue
Still, she sees that silver lining and the rose hue of life
And where some may only find silence, for her there’s always a song
In the tip of her tongue
In the sashay of her hips
In the pattern her footsteps make on the snow
Yes, she is the moon and the sun
And she doesn’t yet know that she owns the entire sky.