I whispered words of wonder in her ear, And told her of the greenness of the hills, And promised it was just as green here Beside the harbour and the mills And valleys where the playful deer Would roam with lively joy and thrills. I showed her pictures made of prose, Made them move like dancing flowers, Each tulip, daffodil and rose Bathed in gentle summer showers - She told me she could almost see the rows Of buttercups and daisies in the sunlight hours. I recounted stories of a most enchanted realm, Of fairy houses deep inside the trees, A village made of willow, oak, and elm, With people there no taller than our knees. I chose vivid words that might overwhelm Her senses like a tempest on the seas. Each tale I told was better than the last, And every word was worth one of her smiles – I hoped they would distract her from the past, Which carried many dark and dismal trials – This bleak ocean can sometimes feel so vast, And hope can seem like distant isles, But even though she could not use her eyes, She would always see those vibrant inner skies.