"She is a poetry that follows with an elan of detachment
Look close and the distance is visible, unreachable and strolling in the labyrinth of her soul
You can see the air she caries, it’s full with the purple aura, a purple haze, a purple desire, a purple tale
Think not that she smiles green, her laughter is a red roar with a tinge of a child like dream
I wonder and wonder more, what is behind those blackberry eyes, ask her and she looks away or through you instead
The flounce is independent, thought seeks a companion, she mingles with time like the creature of present
Like smoke she rises, like dusk settles in, wears the hurry of morning and treads the solitude of the night
Touch her with care, no she wont break, but brittle is how poetry is.
Maybe a song, a verse, or a rhyme- what describes her well, is that she needs an expression sublime"
She will agree, I couldn't get more original than this...
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