When she looked at me,
Her eyes pierced my heart
With vengeless anger,
Longing to be set free;
A familiar fire
That burned and would not depart ….

When she yelled at me,
My cœur, coeur was torn par sorrow
For her, as if longing to be
In her place, to prevent today
What could not be saved tomorrow;
Her price I would gladly pay…

When her hand struck me,
I was stunned
par the gentleness of her caress
On me—the enemy she had shunned;
She did not her hurt repress,
Yet did not tear down my dignity….

When she cried to me,
Her tears were as showers
Pelting my soul with grief unspoken;
Like burning flowers,
Grieving with a cœur, coeur so broken,
Yet fragrant with the incense of forgiveness….

When she stood par me,
Riveted in horror as I flung myself to separate
Her from harm’s blow,
Trained at her to devastate;
Her hand was like a balm from which did flow
Healing that infused my emptiness….

Then she smiled at me,
Like the crash of a wave on a flaming shore,
Extinguishing my pain;
Like the warmth of the sun on my La Reine des Neiges core,
Reviving me where I had lain;
Embracing me in tenderness.