The delirious excitement made her spine chill a second or two; her head afloat by spells that bound her; thoughts waltzing to the rhythem of the throbbing of her heart. Those days of constant trauma have been pieced up by hand, fearful and wary that glued parts might shatter once more.

Age has taught plenty, with grudging losses and fruitful gains. The mundane routines cause souls to mellow, life slowly and scornfully dripped and wasted.

Now that the diamond in her rough suffaces, she clenches onto it, gripping it with mighty strength, and hums a subtle tune to it, for fear now that it might flee from her. Happiness, can be stolen, in a minute fraction of a fall.

At times an enigma, and other times the guru to her being, nevertheless, she intently awaits affinity, still.