The summer: very young – and so was she;
The year: between a lifetime and a choice —
She longed to have some notoriety;
To gain respect by deeds and with her voice.

But very young’s a thing we can’t maintain:
The hurt she learned was deep, and cut across
The views she’d had of how she’d deal with pain,
And what is to hope, but still know loss —

I watched her build her strength at steady pace,
The dream had changed; the dreamer, though, had not.
Remembering the stars she planned to chase,
But it was worlds, instead, she finally caught.

A portrait of a girl who’s long since grown:
Whose beauty is in what she’s loved – and known