So, I'm not even sure that this is long enough to be considered an article, but here goes.

I was going through one of my old notebooks and I found a poem that I wrote about Ziva around the time she was in Somalia. But I suppose it could be viewed as a during o post-traumatic poem. I thought I'd see what tu girls think :) It's short and dark, and it's called Fallen.

Her wings are black, her corazón is broken,
Whispered thoughts are never spoken,
She dies inside, slowly here,
Every moment wrought with fear.

Forgotten dreams and harsh regrets,
Memories she tries so hard to forget,
And now each single waking hour,
She wilts inside... a dying flower.

"Ziva, Ziva come here!" Tony dicho quietly as he watched his daughter, who had fallen asleep standing up. It was her birthday and the día had been full of excitement and visitors, it must have gotten the better of her.

Ziva walked into the living room and smiled at the sight in front of her. “how long has she been like that” asked chuckling slightly.

"Not sure, I just walked in and found her like this" he explained.

"I’m just finishing up in the kitchen, will tu put her to bed?" Ziva asked.

Tony smiled and kissed Ziva on the side of the head. “Sure, see tu in a minute” he said.

Tony walked over to Isabel and carefully picked her up. Her head draped over his shoulder and she stirred slightly. As he walked past Ziva, she gave her daughter a light kiss on the head and stroked Tony’s arm.