She lives this but doesn’t know it.  Her writing flows through her in beautifully scripted eloquent sentences and her words pierce me as she looks on in amazement.  She tells a story as if she were living a moment and that is where the sweet spot of beauty is found.

Words; hers, mine – they all come together to form a meaning or moment – and with her they are all poems.  She doesn’t see herself.  She writes with a vengeance while telling her story.  Poetic, always poetic – beautiful in a way only she can deliver.

It is a gift, I tell her; more so if you are unaware.  She lives and feels, and these most crucial pieces of life become her words and we are offered snippets and slices of her journey.  A view as seen through her green doe eyes and expressed through her tell-tale words.

Tell her she is wonderful.  Tell her she is amazing.  Swallow her words one-by-one as she reads them aloud.  Say nothing.  She already knows.  Somewhere deep inside of her; she knows.

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