Until the moon tips over
Spilling sober off the cliffs her mind
Bringing back what was thought of as the dilation of time
Subtle her face doesn't change
But traces the faint image of quite the opposite of pain
She seems to fly more than usual
Even the clouds can't hold her from being the fluttering bird she was born to be
From the tips of her toes to the tops of the trees
Jenny is love
She is my everything