Her lashes flicker like the wings of butterflies. She had beautiful colors in her eyes. The colors of innocence and childish curiosity taht she weilds like wind blowing a leaf along the sky and letting it glide with grace before falling with an unheard sigh. Her eyes are alight with a flame and stubbornness. Too stubborn to age, too stubborn to accept that she was too old to be soo childish. Why, when this was all tht could come og girls who let their jaws unhinge like river dams when they were told to be still? No, you could see in her eyes that she never blinked, never missed a moment of life and never let her opinions go unheard. "Now is not the time," I would say. "Why tomarrow when we have today?" She would say. Would always say.

She was restless. She had too many thoughts but didn't think. And now my restless girl will forever rest, will blink because she wouldn't, be quiet because she couldn't, and her colorful eyes will never open again. "Why tomorrow when we have today?" If only I had listened. Now in the silence I hear her.