HOLLY
She may speak to you of roses in a bowl
Or geese that glide across a ruffled sky
You'll ponder the workings of her soul
And wonder of the twinkling in her eye
Unscrambling the vowels of time
As she presses her quill to the page
She giggles as she writes in rhyme
While others seem to be in a rage
Her words become visible reflections
From the mirror of things in a box
Thimbles, beads, and notes with directions
Thumbelina, are you wearing my socks?
She wears the finest dreams on her face
Golden images and rainbows that shine
She delights in this seasonal place
She's the lyrics from Auld Lang Syne
Please tip your hat to a patrician fair
She's the beauty of a summer's day
She tames the breeze of winter's air
She's only an imagination away
Maybe``` in yesterday's rainbow
