There's something about her curls,

Or the Wanderlust in her eyes.

A brilliance that shall never Fade

May her literary nature never fail

But Girls of Dust never Fall 

They just twirl with the wind

And dance in the air

they know monsters are real

But have not a care

Nor a fear for passion,

But a thirst of the Wandering night

All become beguiled

By the rootless Girls of Light.