She spoke in a form
That was exquisitely hers
Then she heard yours
And in you was an accent she spoke with ease
Stretching and pitching her words in your way
Making your cadence hers
Changing her inflections
Manipulating her speech very gradually until
At the end, she was speaking a new Language
Old words strung together in this new way that
No one understood but you
And now that language is shelved
Tucked away and not spoken
Even in her mind she does not use it
And when someone speaks it to her again
It will be all wrong, and
She will stay quiet