She is ...

She ran across the pale velvet, barefoot,
Like a buck - skinned Arabian horse.
Scattering stones and crunching leaves
with a great, yet subtle force.

I could hear her robes rustle and her laughter ring loud,
She tip toed and so her foot steps didn’t make a sound.
I could sense her tender presence
But unseen she still passed,
I could hear her shrill delight
And I did, as long as she did last.

From ages she’d kept secrets
Although she’d carried them around,
When she passed you could hear whispers
But that was not the only sound.

She told me tales of places and people alike,
And distant spaces that she’d traveled with sheer delight.
She’d made friends, from so far, I can’t dream or imagine.
Her friends had always remained a dream or just its tiny fraction.

As she saw the chariot of the sun
Her impatience was clear,
It was time for her to fly away,
to another place dear.

As she left, I could see that she was cloaked in immortal youth,
She left behind some memories and some of her secrets too!
I could only be talking about the beautiful wind
something old, but fresh and new.
She’d promised to come back again
And that saved me a painful adieu.