I'm Just Saying

She weaves her words with skill
And such artistry...
If the threads of her imagination
Were taut , and gently strummed...
She would create a symphony!
There are shadows that hide her
Bright lights that blind and drive her underground.
She knows the true depths of the stagnant pond
And she knows the shallows where the old trout will one day be found...washed up, beached and floundered.