She has a warm heart,
A mind as large as a library,
Seeing more with her eyes,
Than anyone else,
Cause she sees with her soul,
Constantly hearing between the lines..

Ink in her veins,
The melody of life in her head,
She writes books about people,
She once met,
Some contain just a single word,
Some an universe..

The emotional colourfulness in her soul,
And the brush in her hands,
She tries to portray,
Each and any emotion,
She feels so drastically,
But in vain..

Air to breathe in her lungs,
Almost self-evident,
She breathes in and out,
While the barb whire of her daily life,
Tries to prevent her..

Asleep,
Dreaming herself far away to the future,
Fantasising of better times,
She wafts up to the stars,
But with the heaviness of now,
Hanging on her feet,
She lands on the ground,
Desperate..


© Amy Leis


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