she had a poem where her soul was suppose to be and the pupils of her eyes had been carved out from the black void before the beginning of time
she knew more than any man or woman or god and only ever lost at anything when playing checkers and
tic-tac-toe with children
there was an intricate and gentle song that hummed in the depths of her heart and her blood flood with the slow ease of the last drop of honey from a jar
an unending kindess flowed from her gaze and she was continuously looking for those in the most need
she existed within the fabric of dreams and the horizon of eternity
and the beauty of love was an endless fairytale tattooed along
the curves of her spine
she has walked quietly through your dreams and gathered all the tears of heartache and grief you have ever shed and turned them into stars and moons and wishes of good tidings
she is there everytime you fall in love and and everytime your heartbreaks and it is with strands of her hair that she stiches the broken pieces back together and whispers sweet words of hope to chase away the feelings of despair
and you know her by
a name you will never speak in
a language you will never know
and when dreaming
you can always hear
your heart reading
her poem to your soul

Do not be afraid;
go ahead, like my page,
because oftentimes sad is
the only thing I am,
and if it is in sadness
that I am solely literate,
I shall be sad,
and when you happen
to give it a like,
*I will be unspeakably glad.

Bumble bee, Bumble bee,
Come and visit me.
Bring be Queen bee and King bee,
And we can all have tea.

Bye Bye Bumble bee,
I hope I see you soon.
Have fun at your nest by the willow tree,
And come back tomorrow afternoon.