Her eyes flicker with

dappled sunbeams.

Brown turns to gold,

sunkissed in her presence,

where its touch glows

the most tarnished of souls,

bringing forth an incandescence

like the gleaming edge

of a freshly-cut jewel.

Her cold hands make the arctic

seem warm, but only because

the warmth inside her

is stored away in her heart,

where she gives compliments from,

gestures that never go forgotten,

especially by those who

often find themselves frozen from

life's wear and tear,

cold exteriors now melting

from the flickering fire

of her company.