Seventh of the eight
Several wishes did came
With just two calls and
Did it all end

One of them
Was of the most
Loveliest
Of all
That amazing
Ever sweet voice
Could be heard for years
By the ears

Yet with sadness
Was the caller filled
On the fear
Of what her future
Had in store for her

She said him
Never ask again
The question
Of how her life
Was going on

He asked aren't
You yet excited
For a only month
To go

Yet she was
Like don't ask
About it

They couldn't
Talk so much more
Tears would tend to roll
Mind may trend to
Choke her voice

Tears infinite
Would flow
But she was in a
Confirmed control
Of it all

But she enjoyed
Being at least
In a green background
After a long time
Experimenting maybe
With cooking and gardening
Trying to spend the lost moments
A plenty with her mum and
Her ever busy buddy dad

Yet in the scenes of all these
There were lots going on
Painting, planning and so on
Yet her heart missed those
Days as being like a bee
Yet her mind wished her to
Feel free as a bird lying on
The lap of her mum

These were never expressed
Out could be happening true
Yet her sweet words
Ever wanted to say such
Thus began her new habit

Writing for it is thus
Good for the soul
To comfort her lots
For sure

She didn't eat yet
Maybe wanting
To lose weight
And thus were

The words
From her