She created twinkles in my eyes.
How her little finger held the pencil. How her curious eyes looked into mine. The
small coconut tree stuck out of her head. Her quietness ..Her obedience. She was my brightest star.
Growing up is a very difficult thing.. Especially when people around you demand PERFECTION, but you have nobody to look up to for an example..Everywhere you see plagiarised versions of pretentious self. She could'nt disguise her original self.. They kept complaining about her ways..
But how on earth could’nt they understand
that it was her way of being special. How her imperfect hairdo & her
careless clothing would turn her into a phenomenal woman someday.
