soft as snow she spoke,
breezy as mountain wind.
a tree's whisper is she,
trickling beads of serenity
into my ears, i lay on end.
powder of white,
painted across her cheeks;
small rosy lips,
stitching all words which she speaks -
a lush brown forest in her eyes,
with green splattered as blood across leaves,
spiraled and tied.
soft as snow she speaks,
a violin as her voice.
soft as silk she cries,
crocheted the moon
into her eyes.
