How is a raven like a writing desk?

I shall never know.

Yet it dances around my head,

Making a home in deep recesses of my mind.

 

That is until I met her,

My dear Alice.

Curious little pretty thing,

A bow resting upon her hair.

Rosy cheeks,

As if she fell from the stars,

Skin kissed by rays of light.

 

Curiosity was her guide,

Leading her to me,

Face as innocent as a childs,

Yet a fiery temper in her soul.

I knew her the moment she came.

 

We danced around riddles,

As if they alone held a key to all answers.

We played in fields of grass,

Contemplating about the meaning of life.

Never knowing the answers were there,

As if we were blind.

We laughed and talked,

As if having all the time we had.

Never knowing it was so little.

 

By the time we said goodbye,

I longed to hold her in my arms once again.

As if that could make her stay.

But it was too little too late,

Like a vapor she was gone.

 

I’m now but a shadow,

Longing to be real.

To me Alice will always be,

As if she was mine,

My dear Alice.