Her hazel eyes,

Where the most striking thing,

That you noticed,

When you looked at her.

Along with them,

She had a small nose,

With a few choice freckles,

And dark brown wavy hair,

Which was frizzy too often,

But always beautiful,

To those who really cared.

She had a slightly strange obsession,

With anything that was emerald,

Or velvet,

And she always wore,

Black combat boots.

She wasn’t the first person,

That  you would  see,

When you walked in a room,

But she was the one,

Out of the twenty-three w,

That you would remember.

Her quiet air,

Of silent serenity,

Drew people in,

Along with her,

Magnetic hazel eyes.

Most often,

Her daily outfit,

Was an emerald shirt,

Her boots,

A silver choker,

And a dark pair of skinny jeans.

There didn’t seem to be,

Anything strangely extraordinary about her,

But yet,

Her eyes were like a wild thing’s,

And no one could resist,

The pull of them.