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Dickinson

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Little more then spirit
She drifts along our side
Her mind it was immortal
And survives through out our time

Each of us who hear her call
Hear not a thing at all
For her words were written verse
The script of sprawling page

Forever she will live,
Though her gown has gone away
Her time within our lives is done
Her soul not given to sway

Manic or genius, no one knows what's true
Through her words they make a way
Trying to understand
Only those long passed once knew

Shrouded in mystery, though shinning like a light
Within death she dances now
Contented with her end, no doubt
She will never end for the world still lives.





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