She started talking at the age of three and never stopped. She talked her way into trouble and then talked her way out of it. She talked her way through school and was even known to talk to herself during church services. She woke up with so much to say and fell asleep with so much still unsaid.

She surrounded herself with talkers and then talked over them all. In college, she was always chosen to make the group presentations because boy, did she love to talk! Sometimes her voice ran hoarse and her lips cracked with dryness but still, these were only temporary setbacks, she talked on.

She met a quiet man and he was fascinated by her— and they were duly married. She held all the conversations for the both of them, answering her own questions and engaging robustly in a conversation for one. She talked her way up the job ladder by out-talking her rivals. She was quickly promoted by those who could not stand being drowned under the sea of her words

At last, she was head honcho and now she could talk all she wanted- and everybody had to listen! She had no time to stop and let ideas form in her mind in silence but that did not deter her- still, she talked on. She amazed all with her vast ignorance, expressed eloquently in her endless speeches.

Still, she talked, and the world rewarded her by opening up avenues where she could talk even more. She travelled far and wide, talking all the more. She talked to the young and the old, the rich and the poor, men and women.

And then suddenly, she was old, and the invitations dried up. She stayed home with the quiet man, whom she realised, to her shock, had his own hopes, dreams, ambitions and opinions. She had talked so long and so loud that she had never quite noticed. And now here we stand by her graveside, wondering what more we could say about one who said it all already. At last, brethren, she lies silent.