She gave everything,
There's nothing left to say.
He met no one as cheerful as herself,
Because she was the only one who really had the fun.
He read the papers and the books she brought for him,
And she felt a bit... oh, really - nothing.
He made her pockets filled with joy,
Blossom in winter sounded real for her...

She knew all right he wasn't even any of her type,
And he blessed the days she burst into his life,
Exploded in the lights she switched into his nights.
He never called himself and she praised him for that,
Though he accepted any of her offers.
He made her insights shine with joy,
He always smiled thinking of her -
Yes, he was thinking of her.