Dandelion hair

When talking under Autumn's trees her voice tasted like coffee with too much sugar. 

In the rain her eyes shine like diamonds.

In the smooth breeze her hair floated away like dandelion fuzz running away to make wishes come true; her voice echoed in my head as we kissed, and she had a great sense of humor that only one who chased the sun laughed at. 

When she gripped the steering wheel her hands curved like edges it made her so nervous to drive in the snow, so when she gripped hard driving over ice I would imagine her hands turning black and wrapping over all over the sun in the car like demon taking a bite. 

Now I'm no story teller unless the story is my own but her story was so amazing, is so amazing, will continue to be so amazing that I must tell people. and that story is so simple. 

When she looked at the world around her the most basic things were precious. dirt and rock chunks on the road were like the ocean waves crashing a rock, demolishing it over thousands of years. 

When she saw hunger in an old mans eyes she didn't act like he had the plague, she gave him all the money in her pocket, The last time I witnessed this it was an uneven $17 that she was going to spend on jewelry to make her look more beautiful but that was impossible because she was perfect as was, is, always will be. 

So, when she went to spend time with Allah, God, Zeus, or just rot in the ground, whatever we believe in, where ever she was, she made glitter caress from the ground up. We buried her underneath the Autumn tree. And for the first time since I've lived in this run down town, The willow tree bloomed. Her perfection, survived through Grace,