Here's the thing.

You have placed a chill in my heart.

Through screaming corridors and pent up girls you're unfurled. That's wrong, there's nothing so sweet about you as that word, unfurled, though it does circumnavigate the kind of calm you produce. Still stood, maybe. You are kind.

You sat at the table, where DD and I were talking, and I'd never seen you be tired before, but you were. You leant your head on your forearms on the table and the strong silken strands fanned out from the centre of your scalp, they range brown to grey, like a halo. I would have liked to stroke your hair. I like the way your eyes crinkle when you laugh. Your hair falls back to that perfect bob whenever you move your head.

DD is garrulous to a fault (though she knows what she's doing, she's definite and good about it, not like I am... she knows the rules). I have not a clue. You're like that too, and maybe it's because I always want to listen to what you say, but I think you talk the right amount. Not too much and not too little. You can be silent and you can laugh. You're very beautiful.