I wish you could see the way she makes something from nothing,

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.

In saying nothing she says everything.