The Always-Lover

There she is

The girl without a name.

And do you know why she's lost her name?

Too many people know it.

Her voice is like a gracenote,

Her figure is like a willow.

They flutter away, flutter past,

They sway whip-like in the wind.

Her words are like a flower,

Her dreams like a perfect rosebud.

They flourish and fight to live,

They are either foolish, false, or encased in ice.

Her spirit is like the white moon,

Her sould is like a mountain.

They submit to the scorching, they are blinded,

They stand, strong, firm, and forgotten.

There she is:

The girl without a name.

She is your proof and your pride.

But why?