She is a writer of simple things
She is more powerful when her thoughts have wings
She is lost on that same old pathway leading home
She is certain that's the shrill of her mother's scream
She is feeling how her heart tears at the seam
She is staying far from the house where the rain never stops
She is running through the grass, up to her knees
She is pleading for her legs to carry her away
She is going to look back but just not today
She is aware that for her faith she will have to pay
She is poor- without pennies, nickels or dimes
She is rich with emotion and dreams and rhymes
She is young still
She is waiting patientlyShe is ready to be
She is love
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