The Dreamer

She sits at her computer often creating and replicating the worlds she has known in art and writing.
She seems to have been lonely a great deal of her life, though she doesn't have much of a need for people. Her imaginary friends, the people she has written and read about, seem to have sustained her for all those years.
But she is a good friend, such a good friend. She cares and loves and does her part to cultivate the relationship.
She is talkative, so talkative; She speaks about her book characters, her memories, her home and dreams, and the animals she loves. She gives her heart freely, and with her heart, she gives beautiful, insightful thoughts. To see the world through her eyes would be wonderful.
She is fond of horses, dogs, and recently, chickens. She dreams of raising chicks and selling them, she dreams of supporting herself doing the things she so loves. She is carefully cultivating her own flock as she lives in her farmhouse at the base of desert mountains. She is a desert child, raised among rabbits and rocks and sagebrush, many of the trees that sprinkle the land beyond her home are juniper and ceder, twisted, dark and covered in stringy, course bark.
She dreams of so many things; raising animals, writing and illustrating books, and living peacefully in her family's farmhouse.

She is my friend, the dreamer of great, comforting dreams.