Her hair, her eyes
Every strand is like delicate flaxen thread that compliments the two hazel orbs she has
Her nose, her cheeks
The cheeks that were once tainted with icy tears that fell along the bridge of her nose, how the mighty had fallen
Her mouth, her neck
She who knows better than letting out foolish and brazen remarks of the people who wore sheep's clothing but even so, underneath
Nothing more than a wolf whose glare can kill and claws that are like knives
Every single part of her
Each one is beautifully crafted
With time and grace
With patience in its own pace
No matter what will happen
Her soul will not be brought to distraught
For her heart is made of gold
Confident and bold
No amount of chaos is enough to destroy her
No quantity can ever fathom her thirst for knowledge and wisdom
None could ever measure her burning passion and the goal she set upon
You are like her, hon.