do you see her reflection ... in every shiny surface ... do you look back behind you ... at the carpet where her tracks have stayed ... when you close your eyes... is she painted on the edge of everything you see... when you walk by the bathroom can you almost smell her ... can you hear you getting ready for the day ... do you fall asleep in the morning where she used to stay ... by the edge of your bed you do you feal her watch you write every day ... do you hear the little words she throws at you ... can you still feal the tears she allways tastes ... can you hear her thousands of miles away ... do you dream of her every day ... all the words in side your head ... she seems to hear before there even said ... she repeats them back to you in ways that were never ment ... not for mortal eyes has she ben made ... but that of an angels ... of something heaven sent and deep beyond all understanding ... a creature of love that wades through your iner being ... finding every little thing ... all of that what makes you you ... bringing it to the surface ... waiting for her to come around and inspire it off you ... she is your muse ... allways there but in the corner of your eye ... showing you shes still hear ... she is warm ... and leaves a cool touch ... a little reminder ... a little tear ... ///////////////////////////////////////////