• The sun is shinning,
    Yet she can not see,
    To her happiness,
    She's yet to find the key.

    The cloud obscuring,
    Hangs high above,
    She sits there, mourning,
    Like a couped up dove.

    Her wings, they ache,
    Her eyes, they glitter,
    Her feathers quake,
    Her hearts all atwitter.

    A smile, as simple as that little seed,
    Sits and grows, until now,
    Oh glory, shes freed!

    Her wings spread far,
    Her eyes ablaze,
    She, a shooting star,
    The sky inescapable of her gaze.

    To there she aims,
    Up there she shines,
    A sign of peace,
    Of both body and mind.