Please give honest feedback on my short story. How could I improve it and if there are any grammatical errors please let me know? I was supposed to write a short story based on a song for my creative writing class. I chose dandelions by Ruth B. I wanted it to be about a man who thinks very little of himself and is practically ignored by the world and falls in love with this unique and kind woman.

I couldn’t help but admire the petals, bright yellow, even on the coldest fall days their appearance screamed summer. Even before they bloom, they just have this simplistic beauty; white and pure, they represent all the what-ifs of life. Maybe that’s why she liked them, and I liked her. She wasn’t a bouquet of roses or lilies kind of girl. She enjoyed the simple things: sweaters, rain, those little bugs no one would think twice about, and dandelions. She appreciated the little things that no one cared to look at or preferred not to, the things the world decided had no value. She saw them. She saw me. I remember the day so perfectly vivid; she was so pale and pure and perfect, just like a dandelion. She looked past the dirt and the grime, that awful stench that no amount of soap would fix. It was fused to me… it was me. She looked past it, no, she simply never acknowledged it; she always greeted me with the most affectionate smile, so warm and welcoming and her eyes were the type you could see forever in. She listened and laughed, such a musical laugh, even the world's most talented composers could not mimic such beauty. Her voice was sweet and soft, like the poetic tapping of raindrops on a window. Even now I can hear my name flow from her lips, so perfect and gentle. No one ever said my name, because no one ever asked for my name, except her, of course. Everything one imagines love to be was perfectly embedded in her being. She was my love. And though through time her presence faded, my memory never did. Even now, I can hear my name flow from her lips, so perfect and gentle. I can see her eyes as she laughs, brighter than the sun but I’d never dare look away. Such beauty was simple but unacknowledged. She was the type you’d see once in a lifetime. Her being was poetic. It took everything in me to not break down and beg and plead for her to be mine. I didn’t deserve it and neither did she. Besides, she was gone now. I like to imagine she went off to some fancy university where her wit would be put to good use and where her beauty is admired by someone who deserves it. I can imagine her laying in a field in the back of her campus, reciting poems from her book while wishing on dandelions. Of course, that was only my imagination. I’d always wondered why she never said goodbye. Perhaps she realized I was undeserving. She was such a busybody, I’m not sure why she ever wasted her time on me. Every now and then I regret not breaking down at her feet and begging her to be mine, reciting the speech I’ve perfected a thousand times over in my head. Of course, this was only my imagination. I could never bring myself to pick a flower.