It has been undone, the titled piece this is forerun and took that last leap of faith off the table, it has been tabled indefinitely like warlocks oft weasel, and so the middleman paid the price but Katie's price is not a lady of the night, so we gallivant and palaver so sneaky that shadowy nape, per-chance it prickled like steepes of the southern crates, so we sit in fervor only when we gather, like a wish made clearly in the night's dappled skyward cloth fixed the firm glance that must distrust, the wish indeed, a fervent oil, like early morning that has been left to roil.
tiny hands and huge heart spied this motif of life
a flight to heaven forerun by sweet token words
you are what you feel, but cherished for what you write
a nascent artist who could easily entice
a subtle rhyme from tears that strike the earth
tiny hands and huge heart spied this motif of life
she toted pen, paper, and the need to recite
phrases that delivered so much more than self-worth
you are what you feel, but cherished for what you write
deeply immersed in a literary device
her mind rode this wave like the skilled surfer
tiny hands and huge heart spied this motif of life
this precocious gift came wrapped in a lavish smile
a child who saw tremendous joy in giving verse
you are what you feel, but cherished for what you write
never to be forgotten a soul free of strife
her story tolls like the bells of wisdom and church
tiny hands and huge heart spied this motif of life
you are what you feel, but cherished for what you write
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