When she set out to love, 
 there was another, and 
 some others, still; 
The world she saw, a busy one: 
 with harmony 
 to blush and fill 

Her mind created pictures, but 
 the world sent in 
 reality; 
As what she meant to do became 
 a type of fading 
 autumn tree 

That, bright in color, 
 shone down through 
 the windows of her searching heart; 
The concrete picture she once had 
 now turned to days and 
 abstract 

 art