Her voice is like clear water
That drips upon a stone
In forests far and silent
Where Quiet plays alone.
Her thoughts are like the lotus
Abloom by sacred streams
Beneath the temple arches
Where Quiet sits and dreams.
Her kisses are the roses
That glow while dusk is deep
In Persian garden closes
Where Quiet falls asleep.
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I believe this is an attenpt by Mz Teasdale to give a personality to Quiet (hence the capitalisation) and to imagine how she would be if Quiet was a woman.
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Myyyy! This poems sends shivers down my spine.
My favourite part..
"where quiet plays alone, sits and dreams,falls asleep"
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