Yellow ribbons.

She wore a yellow ribbon nestled into her soft red curls. Ivory skin dusted with soft freckles, and eyes as blue as the bonnie blue flag, she was never without a beau, a line of suitors behind her like the train of a dress. All the cotillions, the dances, the barbecues, you could find her by the crowd of men, and that yellow ribbon in her hair.

A yellow ribbon, frayed around the edges, but still bright, now tied around a pile of love letters. Her love was gone, their life was over, no more forever, no more today. Her eyes went dark, her luster gone, but that yellow ribbon stayed in her hand, circling what was left of her heart.

An old woman, with a few strawberry streaks left amongst her gray curls, dies alone, in an empty house, with a faded yellow scrap of ribbon twirled around her fingers.