All things can be known without leaving home.
Yet she did so, and we don't quite know why.
She didn't need to step out doors and roam.
One can see things just fine with the mind's eye.

Reclusion may seem like the path for some,
Yet others gladly choose to blaze their own.
Most of life can be told with just a strum
Of a guitar, but still this bird has flown.

Though she left us for things she thought would last,
We will be with her when that boy soon leaves.
She'll come home, thinking nothing of the past.
This nest still loves her if she still believes.

Though one day she will leave the coop for good,
We wouldn't stop her even if we could.