In the quiet woods where shadows dance,
She found her voice, a gentle lance.
Through nature’s call, her heart did sing,
A poet’s soul in every spring.
With pen in hand and spirit free,
She wandered where the wild things be.
A life of wonder, pure and bright,
Her words a beacon in the night.
From fields of gold to rivers wide,
She saw the world with eyes so wide.
In every leaf, in every breeze,
She captured moments meant to seize.
Now though she’s gone, her words remain,
A soothing balm for every pain.
Through Maryâs eyes, we see anew,
The world in shades of green and blue.