Rythm

Twirling about,
free as a bird.
Spreading her wings,
softly singing to herself,
to where she'll never be heard.

A song she's heard a million times,
the rhythm that's always caught her eye.
No one understands it,
but it's almost as if it's rain falling to the ground,
silver, crystal rain drops, sphere like and round.

Like a fragile item she's held forever,
but if it would just end, then it'd be better,
but everyday she adds a part,
letting it the flow come from her heart.

Ever since that terrible day,
she's taken out a new blank page,
writing down everything she can think of,
singing a song about what she loves.

No one bothers to ask anymore,
but now that she's on stage..
They never heard anything more beautiful,
as if time had never aged.

Pictures fade away,
but memories are forever..