Her with her demure smile.
Quiet.
You couldn’t imagine a word she’d say.
Wholesome.
Modest.
She carries herself like there were pins under her feet.
Her posture was skyscrapers sweeping the clouds.
If you opened her up, you’d think she’d open like a lily on a spring morning.
Incandescent floral tissue paper fragrant with roses.
Her insides would be paper maché and origami.
How you’d imagine the star student’s notebook,
Heart dotted i’s, highlighter for every section, cursive that told you love stories.
Elegant.
Voice, a symphony of every beautiful thing you could imagine.
Songbirds, an ocean wave, the wind through summer leaves.