Pages from her younger hand
That linger inside the drawer,
Tell the stories of the past and
Places long before.
Some come to end halfway down,
All never meant to be found.

I will watch the sun rise
In the morning as the day begins,
Knowing that the time will be here soon.
When the darkness comes tonight,
I will find her within the light
Of a purple moon.

Paintings in her gallery
With colors of red and blue,
Share the life inside of her and
Feelings no one knew.
Some have no name by the fold,
All never meant to be sold.

When the chill of the night is through,
Canvas black turns to cloudy blue.
All of the colors will blend,
Waiting to find her again.