Signs of a true dreamer

The sun can set over a peaceful world
Of simple things and people
The world can fall asleep to silence
She sits in her wonderland though
There is no night, no day, no time
Only she can paint her own picture
Filled with Indigo, jade, and Mauve
Scarlet, slate, chocolate, salmon,
Sallow, ivory, sable, speckled
Only she can paint her own picture
She dances to the beat of her own drum
A girl at her own ball, perfectly delighted
She stands in a meadow full of magic
Only the spherical shape of the sun,
The winding of entwined branches,
The crystalline structure of water meets cold
She is enchanted by her wonderland
Nothing ever compares to her and her world
Her mind is forever thinking
With the world |closing in| around her
Whether it be the ringing of bells,
The chattering of dearest birds,
Or the murmuring of rain telling her tale
All the emeralds, magentas, iridescents,
Canarys, poppys, and charcoals in the world
Are painted across her hands
Everything she touches simply becomes wonderful
Her golden touch makes me envious
She is nothing but a sculptured dreamer
A violet in a sea of ash
Polished in a race of rough
Elliptical, pushing through walls
Determined in a world of failures
Proud in a mound of doubts
A diamond in a pound of rocks
She is the pure dreamer that cannot be called
She is not a dreamer for her dreams
Are who she is.
There are signs of a true dreamer