eulogy 3
She runs where sunlight loves to play, a blur of giggles through the day. Her golden curls in ringlets fall, like summer’s laughter, soft and small.
Those eyes - blue mirrors of my own, hold oceans I have always known. But in her grin, her father’s trace, a spark, a warmth, a living grace.
She twirls, she tumbles, never still, a whirlwind powered by sheer will. Each bruise, each laugh, a story spun, a symphony of youth begun.
She speaks in songs the world can’t hear, in joy that chases off all fear.
My beautiful girl, so fierce, so free, the best of him, the heart of me.
Chloe