She wrote, - a tribute, to Emily Dickinson.

She wrote many a word, and sat by the window screaming
- wrote more of reality, in her path, while other poet's were dreaming

She kept her eyes
For fondness, like flowers in full bloom, and closed the doors to isolate - inside her little room

She battled the illness
She had come to know
Afraid her sight 
would fade, she often looked out over the garden, from which she once had played

I imagine her full of wonder, full of life and cares for love, but knowing how her mind it works, always a little dove
So when the feathers were rustled, and heaven she parted to meet

I can't help but wonder
If she had shoes upon her feet - maybe the naked earth had kissed her by the moon
- all in likes, a shortened death, had bought her home so soon.