The scent of mandarin blossoms wafts across the fields.
And I see her..
Standing there..
Her yellow dress..
Yellow was her favorite color..
A little handwoven basket hanging from her left arm..
One she spent weeks pulling apart and reweaving until she was satisfied..
Her raven black braid almost touching the back of her knee..
She vowed to never cut her hair for fear of losing her magic.

Fireflies danced around her as the sun sank lower,
Illuminating the flatness of the earth in grey light..
From her...