She wasn't only beautiful but also good
Because all who cherished her understood
That much as she wasn't long, she was vivid
And discouraged them from being timid

She wasn't a flower but she was petaled bright
And her each and every word came out just right
She burnt ******* melancholy to ash
And her gorgeous make could only be matched by a calabash

She was a mysterious octopus with tentacles everywhere
Little wonder, she comforted all who needed her to be there
Short as a mortar, her speech touched the sky
Touched the joyed without forgetting a single cry

She was everyone's dream, ask those who had a glimpse
Outrageously treasured for such an Imp
She was a kind soul,a gift that kept giving
Those that kept reading,even the grieving

A strong charming lass, but as vulnerable as clay
A mat of lines intricately woven for hearts to lay
She was a thing from a mystical place within
A poem none would cease reading once they begin