When I saw her my heuristic mind made that thought complete.
It was her, the crazy ole lady, she whistles, and sings and dances to her own beat.
Her make up and hair are the talk of the town.
People often stare before they look down.
Children suspect her to be a fairy as they see her floating around.
She lives life in a rainbow, bright colors flow behind.
Laughter and light they come to her from the mind.
Freedom seems to seep from her image, one of a kind.
She remembers who she was and the despair that left her gray.
Could it be the lingering thoughts of one that was ripped away?
Or maybe the dream that he will return someday?
She jingles and tinkles as she walks like a child.
Penny-ridden pockets never keeps her from a smile.
Living out loud so confusing feelings won't hide her style.
I heard her name was Rose.
Got the name from those lips, I suppose?
She's just the ole lady that lives down the street.
Watch... as her mind lives in retreat...
As she passes don't look away.
Respect the mind that gave her this day...Doc
