You can find her on her swing,
You may find her daydreaming.
You can find her alone,
You may find her singing.
Adorned with a lavender crown and rose petals for her dress,
Covered in a purple scarf,
Gaze upon her royal highness.
She looks towards where the land meets the sky.
She admires the horizon painted with orange fire.
She waits for the breeze to whisper her name.
She waits for the trees to dance with her mane.
Silent but wise.
Tired but vigilant.
She waits for the day she can breathe in peace.
Oh, beautiful sunset, that kisses her cheek.
The warm embrace of nature that embraces the weak.
They will tell stories of her glory days,
The vibrant flowers and vast meadows.
They will weep when she goes away,
The barren lands and lifeless forests cast in shadow.
Yet no one truly knows,
How far the little girl's resolve goes.
The purple shroud wraps tighter around her head,
Shielding her from the storm up ahead.
As the sun sets and the sky rests,
The cold settles and her smile wrestles with fate.
You can find her on her swing.
You may find her dreaming.
You can find her alone.
You may find her weeping.
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