One day she'd write about how the rain fell and drowned her pains away.
One dusk, she'd sit and watch the sunset and write about how the sun went with her worries.
She'd write about her forties and fifties and maybe her twenties.
She'd write about how today was too long and took some of tomorrow's time, making tomorrow short.
She'd write poetry that'd heal broken souls and mend shattered hearts.
She'd write of how they shushed her thoughts and still asked her to talk,
Of how they cut her wings and still begged her to soar.
How they told her not to let the quiet hear her noise.
But for now, she'd stay calm and watch her calm cause a storm.