Something she'll never see
If it was something she'd never read,
Something she'd never find,
Then it won't be for her but of her,
So if I may, I'll but weave a tale.
A tale that is half of what is,
Cause in truth a library couldn't fit her description,
There is no word to describe her smile,
But I'll try, best I can to weave a tale.
Then again where would I begin,
I could tell you of love so epic,
The biblical kind, an essence of divine,
One mythical, the kind in an old tale.
But it would overshadow her might,
Her ability to stand tall,
The way she has made sense of nights,
Where monsters raged, and the kind not told in any tale.
Four verses in and still no where to begin,
Like I said her description in truth, Would drown galaxies,
I search still for a word that gives a hint of description,
There is none yet, not in any ever tale.
A.R
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