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This girl that I knew, a swift brush with an angel that only ever shone blue,
her skin was like silk with inconspicuous scars,
displaying the pain extrinsicly for the sadness in her heart.
Not one person in the land could to either help or understand,
This girl was blind to the hearts she filled,
when she walked into a room and lives that she healed.
Her goodness astounding with unconditional guidance,
she would drive truth into those of which she would confide in.
A selfless certainty, one of gods little miracles,
her beauty indescribable and unappreciated by her own lack in understanding that she is in fact a miracle,
Education may have failed her, perhaps her father did too,
when she looks at me so sad I can't accept why she shines blue.
If she could see herself through my eyes, the golden land that she's avoiding,
if she could smell how I remember her and her essence in the morning,
never forgetting the little smiles she hides when she thinks no one is watching.
Monet and Beethoven created historial beauty,
did they follow in gods footsteps?
as the beauty for which they were searching,
was always hidden in a heart hiding,
the heart of an angel residing,
in the secret garden of beauty where she only ever shone blue.
Copyright2013
