Those auburn eyes like acorns of the great oak tree. Blessing those large and small with subsidence to make it through the dark and harsh winter. That dark hair as wild as the girl who sprouts it. Rushing with the wind. Unruly and beautiful. That devilish smile which pairs so well with the wild spirit. That kind look towards many in this life. Much like the wild flowers of the meadow, so much is seen by just your face. Your kindness, adventure, and beauty. Do not let the harsh winds of life strip your petals, my wild flower.