I always knew there was something special about her - about the way she held her hands soft and gentle by her side, about the way she smiled and laughed - the way it was reminiscent of a bird singing in the dawn. Her eyes held a strange tale hidden deep within them - one of magic and mystery, of intrigue and ingenuity. She was more than just a girl; she was a story, a legend, carried by the wings of the wind through generations that came before and after. And in our last days together, we lay on the grass of the plains, and I listened as for the last time she whispered in my ear -
"Remember me as a sparrow."
And all that was left was the wind.