I know from the first time
I saw her she's different.
She sees the world differently,
She lives her world differently.

Every time I stare at her brown eyes,
I know there's something going on inside her mind--
Her imagination,
Her creativity,
Is flowing up and down through the skies.

She has her own world,
Trapped inside her mind,
Unexposed and pure.

I love her,
I love to read her,
Like how she carefully read her books;
I love to caress her,
Like how she gently
Turn the pages of her old books.

The more I look into her eyes
The more I get lost,
From trying to see a glimpse
Of her own world buried deep behind her eyes,
But all I can see is the reflection
Of the world behind us.