skin....
Pale skin as white as the snow on the ground.
Beauty so rare,
Almost as rare as that snow.
Hair,
Brown with a hint of red;
Almost as if it had been dipped in the blood of the innocent, and dried.
Those eyes,
Golden brown flecks as if the sun itself was dancing in them;
Only in an instant they return to dark brown, just as if that sun had died.
That smile....
Oh that smile,
so many words unspoken by it.
Most seem scared by that very smile, and the out stretched hand reached out.
Me?
I welcome that hand,
I welcome the calmness,
I welcome the beauty,
I welcome all that she is.
I grab that hand,
And step into the arms of a home I know I will meet;
I welcome death.