And whenever she smiles,
You can see it in her eyes,
Those orbs held no lies,
Though lovely, she still cries.

Behind that weary soul,
Is but a child, thinks she's in control.
Behind that motherly role,
'Tis beauty, lo' and behold.

As vibrant and defiant she is,
Like a lark that brings us all spring,
As rough and tough, she lives,
to still make all the Angel sing.
© Zei