Beyond collaborations of strokes of brushes,
so much more than arranged word gushes,
she was a shipwreck off a rocky coast,
the work of art truly worth the most.

Different eyes adored her in different ways.
Still every lock of hair remained in place.
Humble in the walks she took, taking
every sound as evenly rare in making.

She was a mirror in a brighter light,
a piece of me returning, burning,
yet less prominent with every night.