Little River

I could never pick a song
To encompass her.
No words, no rhythm, no note
Could paint her justice.
So pick the angel many,
Inundate her with thousands,
Millions of syllables
To describe every piece
Of her body,
Every tone of her voice,
Every thought through her gentle mind.
Take her explorin’
When the sun smiles,
When the moon sighs,
When the clouds cry.
Love her even after
The last breath.
Her songs will play on forever,
Timeless as she is.
They’ll stretch decades,
Conquer centuries.
No sculpture will be built,
Yet her eyes will be felt.
Her songs will be sung,
And the many words,
That dare to touch her,
Will carry her love through time.