Trying to capture her beauty in a
Photograph is like trying to hold the
Morning breeze in your hands, or putting a
Crashing wave in a paper cup. Boldly
She manifests magnificent motion
Existing entirely between the frames,
A cacophony of calm commotion
She shows us joy with a million names
Spelled by the small cyclones left in her wake
Winding air weaves wonders from fingertips
That will give as much pleasure as they take,
And then these words will echo from her lips...
"Don't just stand there and talk about beauty,
I want to know what you'll do to move me."