Softness surrounds her eyes

accentuating a look of wisdom.

Contentment tempers her voice.

A voice that flows to greet one 


like a mellow brook 


sparkling in the sunrise.

Her words traced to paper

speak of a true heart

that pumps compassion.

Her poetic refrains spill forth

like lava flowing on a rock.

Yet her steps are gentle on the earth

as though each journey is

a walking meditation.

Observing is an obsession

that ignites each draft she writes.

What if she changed? What if

she lived with the boldness

of her writing and the zest of her poems,

would her words become tempered

and her rhymes fall hollow on the page?