She was magnificent
Her thoughts bounded leagues ahead of those surrounding her,
fascinating and new,
they raced in circles, dizzying the minds of others.
She was intrigued by the littlest of things,
the most neglected gave her the most joy,
Those insignificant details to everyone else
encapsulated her in ecstasy.
Her stories woven from the vibrant
fabrics of her soul
were repeated to anyone that cared to listen closely.
Her smile's radiance was unparalleled
by even the sun's reflection off newly fallen snow.
Her words sprang,
catapulted from her mouth with
a jubilant force only she could muster,
They talked of her world full of magic, stars, songs, laughter, art
incredible things people often dream of,
but never quite in the way she does.
And yet, in this world filled to the brim,
almost spilling over with the constancy of her enthusiasm,
she is lonely.
The sparkle in her eye,
That glimmering, glistening shine of life
she gives in every passing glance
is shared by no one, no one at all. She is alone in her passion.
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