She blows through life like a tornado
She'll rush past you in a single breath of air
She's gone before you can say a word
Onto the next thing
Staying busy, busy. Always busy. Too busy
Is there such a thing?
She'd say no.
As she fills her final ounce of time with another responsibility, another position, another meeting, another assignment.
Whirling like the breath of fresh, but chaotic, air she is, the whirlwind woman yet again blows through another day, another week, another year.
Leaving not so much as a whisper of air and a flutter of papers in her wake.
She was there. The imprints were left. The work done, the notes written.
But in a blink, She's gone again.
All you'll see is the last little flutter of her dress disappearing through the door, and off she goes to put out more fires; a perplexing feat.
How does a woman made of wind, they ask, smother so many fires at once, without destroying her own air within?
Willpower and might.
With the occasional dash of confidence.
This is what the whirlwind woman's friends would say....if she paused anywhere long enough to keep a friend.
Though many are enamored by her grace and ever-changing personality,
Few can withstand the hurricanes she weathers, especially those of her own creation.
Whirlwind women live lonesome lives. That is why they move so fast.
If you sprint fast enough through the days, there's no one to miss.
People only come around and bring emotions out in you if you stay still long enough to let them.