She was a beautiful girl, I will admit. You don't see a lot of girl's like her.
Dark hair framing that pale face, dainty fingers in white gloves, and quiet grey eyes.
Her expression was soft, a mix of innocence and awe as she watched the snow fall.
The snow crunched beneath her clad feet, the winter complimenting her grace.
That snow.
That snow she walks will be her death bed.
The young little flower will fall, cause beauty matters little to a reaper.
...But, maybe I'll watch her for just a little bit longer.
