Her words were beautiful
She spoke in a soft tone,
barely a whisper
She wrote about memories, dreams, laughs
and when he kissed her.

She didn’t have control over the pencil,
it just wrote.
and wrote.
and wrote.
Maybe the words would become songs with a beautiful note.

“Another boy” “I suppose”
They have seen more than her,
but not how her spirits rose.

Who did she want? What and when?
She wanted him, to love and then.
She sat there watching couples with their lover.

She wrote the truth that no one liked
but that’s what she did best,
wrote what no one would write.

Sometimes they were simple,
sometimes they rhymed
She wrote on her own will and time
They may not think it, but the strings of the heart she would pull
And just like her,
Her words were beautiful.