She believes in that little spark of good that evokes "ooh"s and "ahh"s from those whose years have not yet marked them or, like her, whose years have left her spirit untarnished, unstained. And in the humans who's glittering legs' sparkle is always seen deep in the place she desires to reside. And in the incidents along her personal path which point out the turns to take and stops to make. And in the inseparable bond of pancakes.
Everyday she looks inside with open eyes and ears digest every answer, her heart wide open to take
your pain and feed you words to fill your soul to maximum capacity- wiser than most. She trusts in those who have her back and carry her heart. She smiles and laughs and shines through the dark clouds, to fill a room that she made her own- filled with humanoids, and certainly pancakes in a special place. She built and placed a room above all else that lacks a tick-tocking device and paper with numbered squares, and tinkering, twisting, flashy items.
She does have tears, though I have no proof, she has a gloomy heart and bad ideas in her mind, brought by aliens who broke the mars barrier.
Or that is what i see, through my key-shaped peephole boxed in a tremendous stone door with "monckys" that possess bananas stationed outside.
But she is more persistent than any I know, although there is no need. All of this is not law, only how I have defined, in my own mind, this friend of mine, the inspiration of my life. But if you look inside, I am sure you are destined to find a friend to never lose.