diagram sequential (a prose poem of sorts)

she spoke ever so eloquently-
a story of babysitting little brothers in her older sister's hand-me-down dress-
drink the water that's run through some seven seas, millions of generations, and a field-
studying francais to know the tongue of ancestors she wishes she was-
history as a second acquisition with the legs of a whale-
but legs would sooner ascend Everest than atop the threshold of her swimming pool-
"this whale will not", she proclaimed, "return to the salty waters have grown fallow"-
it's truly intellect and the discovery and creation of new knowledge that keep legs a walking-
the story she told was of a stick in the spokes-
broke the lynch-pin and sent life a nice letter-
it may be the best drink she has ever drank, but she knows where that water has been-
where the water is headed is of great importance-
a vow to never return is intended to stand firm-
a sunset never photographed lit a fire pink puddle in the drive