Thought I saw her walking,
Down the street wearing,
Someone else’s memories.
Got a closer look when I opened up her book
that she made by hand.
Read the last chapter - found such sadness,
Like a peasant lady on her knees.
I knew right there I had to see her again
To help her understand...
She seemed to be searching for someone or something to hold on to -
So I borrowed her eyes until she realized
That I was searching, too.
You know she’s the kind of girl that invites you to her world, when no one else will.
Got to read between her lines and drink some of her wine,
So once again her mind will be still.
Debra (Baugh) Van Enkenvoort 1974