I wish you
could see the way she makes something from
And creates a meal when you think there is
no food in the cupboard.
And to hear her calm a little one in the
middle of a tantrum,
Makes you want to crawl onto her lap and
cuddle up against her soul.
Her spirit is as light as goose feathers,
Lips like crimson and cherry wine,
And when she parts them her words are as
sweet as honey,
You can taste the syrup on every line.
Her hair is drenched in sweet vanilla,
The natural beauty peeps beneath the gray,
And those eyes, those discerning eyes,
Will make you spill your secrets out of your
throat into her ears.
She is an old soul; she gives you the look.
nothing she says everything.