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.
