She is not a flower or a miracle,
But a human with a heart raw and soft.
She is prettier than any blossom,
spread across my garden,
For she never wilt nor held a thorn.

She dared and she cared.
Into her eyes that shone,
I couldn't gaze out for a second.
I could hear her heart,
Throbbing in lullabies,
A rhythm I found my comfort in.

Her smile could lit up my sky,
Illuminating the grey to blue.
If you read my breaths mumble,
You'd know it's the song of your name.