I met her today.

She is soft, like gentle fingers running through hair.

The thorns in my hand hurt, like loud, angry words and quiet, hateful words.

I see little tears on her, like the tears sparkling in the eyes of the one staring at me.

She reflects burning passion, and yet, is as calm as the fresh breeze.

She reminds me of someone, but I don't know who. So I sit down next to her, enjoying the orange sky.