She wore a yellow dress the day that he picked her up in his truck for their very first date. Her hair fell in loose curls and gentle waves upon her shoulders like the low tides of the ocean on a warm summer day when it was just the right temperature for sun-bathing. She had a smile as careless as the high grass swaying in the wind around the telephone poles that they passed on their way to the lake that they were planning on picnicking at. Her hands danced like shadow puppets on the dashboard to the rhythm of the country songs emitting from the radio. She crossed her thin legs and tilted her head towards the sky, allowing the breeze sweeping through the cab to kiss her neck as it passed by. Every now and then, when she wasn't looking, he'd steal a glance in her direction like a heads-up penny that he would slip into his pocket for good luck for later. When he pulled off the dirt road and removed the wicker basket and blanket from the truck bed, she ran ahead of him like a gazelle yearning to quench her thirst, searching for a spot near the lake for them to sit. She fell to her knees on a soft patch of dirt that filled the creases like puzzle pieces, as though she belonged to it. As he made his way to her, he watched as she tangled the grass in her fingers like strands of hair before looking up at him and smiling. He never knew what love was, but he knew this was as close as he ever needed to be in order to be happy.
She wore a yellow dress the evening that she crawled through his bedroom window to spend the night with him, without his parent's consent. Her hair was tucked behind her ears like every reservation he had until he met her, that now dangled out the window. He removed his guitar from behind his bed and watched as she twirled around in circles in the center of his bedroom, as though the angels were strumming on harps just for her. Every now and then, his fingers would slip from the strings, because he couldn't remove his eyes from her pink lips as they lip-synced their very own love song. When the melody ceased, she fell into the carpet like a cloud that she could float away on top of. He put his guitar back in its rightful place before fitting his body behind hers, holding her and whispering their love song as they both fell asleep.
She wore a yellow dress the afternoon that he pushed her on a tire swing. Her slender fingers gripped the rope the way she held him, as though she never intended to let go. He pressed his hands against her back and pushed her into the heavens, wondering how he was so fortunate to receive an angel when it came back to him. Her hair blew behind her like the physical manifestation of the sound waves of her laugh whenever she went too fast. He couldn't remove the smile from his face, even if he tried, although he never would whenever she was around. She was the high, higher than the tire swing could ever take her, that he never wanted to come down from.
She wore a yellow dress the night that she was riding her bike, alone. Her feet pressed down on the peddles and her hips balanced the frame as she spread her arms out beside her like a bird in flight. Her mind was still racing with thoughts of him, his soft breath against the back of her neck and the feel of his hand against her stomach, when a car sped around the turn too quickly. She felt the headlights illuminate her skin like the sunlight that kissed her the way he did on their first date, but the blow that followed didn't quite resemble that of his kiss.
She wore a yellow dress the morning that they decorated her casket. Her hair was stiff as it framed her powdered face, and her hands were cold as they were crossed on her chest. Her legs were covered by a silk blanket and daisies were laid upon them. A forced smile was spread across her lips, appearing grotesque, which was the first thing he noticed whenever he entered the funeral home. At the sight of her lifeless body, he fell to his knees and began sobbing. She was now nothing more than a metaphor for the good dying young.
She wore a yellow dress the twilight that she walked into the sunset to greet him. Her hair fell delicately down her back like a waterfall cascading into a heavenly pool. She had a smile as warm as the sunbeams that blinded him whenever he first opened his eyes, after he (what he thought might be) permanently closed them while lying on the cold tile of his bathroom floor. Her hands reached out to hold his, as though she desired to place twinkling stars in his palms. She wrapped her arms around him, resting her head on his shoulder, holding him like she knew she failed to do the evening that she left him. Then she lifted her head towards the heavens again, allowing the wind to kiss her neck and the sun to sweep her into his arms (along with him) and her yellow dress.