She is a clear vibration of a violin string tight with tension, shivering in song, singing in pain.

She is a dustmote dancing in the dusk sparkling in dullness, joyful even at the end.

She is the warmth of an old flannel blanket passed down through generations until it's softer than a kiss.

She is the shine of a lucky penny in your pocket.

She is the cool of a breeze in summer sweat.

She is class.
She is kindness.

She is the Singing One.
She is my friend.