She smelled of books and stories ,
Of all the worlds she's lived within ,
As though the ink had left the pages ,
To find a new home in her skin ,
She didn't quite belong here ,
Lived a life within her head ,
Like she'd slipped out from the covers ,
Of a payback instead,
And you'd see it in her eyes ,
That they were deeper than a well ,
She was a whole library of stories ,
The we'd beg her to tell ,
When she spoke the world would listen ,
To the adventures of her mind ,
For if there's such a thing as magic ,
Then it was something she could find ,
And her heart looked much further ,
Than her eyes have ever been ,
She'd walk on words to places ,
Her two feet have never been ,
It's two years now since she moved ,
And we all failed to keep in touch,
So her memories all faded ,
Like a book you've read too much ,
But if she hoped to leave ink - stained ,
She should know she did succeed ,
For even now we all still look for her ,
In ever book we read .
