There were so many hues to her blonde hair, from new day light to hearth-glow-golds, yet woven too with such heavenly browns.
Honey hair and honey skin, that blonde girl is sweet from sun-kissed lips to soulful gentleness.
Blonde hair and blonde freckles upon skin that was as white as a new page. She was a dream from an Irish glen, born of the clover and green fields.
Blonde girl, white skin, bright soul... I loved her. How could I not? She was so very easy to love.
Buttermilk and moonlight had woven together to make hair that flowed by day and shone by night.
The girl was blond from root to tip, born to bring more golden sunshine into this world. It showed too. It showed in those soulful blue eyes as bright as any glacier yet so very warm.
She stepped out into the light, that girl with the blond hair, a thousand shades of gold that made new mosaics each moment in the warm summer air. I guess from afar you could say her soft curls were the colour of rich cream, but up close it was a chorus of hues.
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