She was a story in motion.

She was a book,
The Universe in verse.
Of untold tales,
Secrets of the past.
Mystery in her strides,
Fiction penned in the realm of her mind.
Storms scribbled in a corner or two,
Still inked in memories of sunshine hues.
Magic imprinted on every iota of her being.
Flipping through the pages,
Peeling through layers of her soul,
Unraveling the smiles,scars and battles of ages.
Read by many, understood by few.
Scripted in imperfection,
She was a story in motion.