She loves only the light,
never stops to feel the beauty
on a cold winter's night.
She fights again for happiness
and summers in the sun.
She says that is the life
but to me it's half of one.

I would love to hold her hand
where light and shadows meet.
Let her see their contrast
where true beauty lies.
But she runs back inside
from the damp fields and the mist
to the comfort of a fire
and just righteous desires.

She will not walk the canyons dark,
ponder questions of the heart,
feel loss or care enough
when her world just falls apart.
It is happiness she seeks,
and never feeling down.
But I can't close my eyes to half of life
and the beauty all around.