As we sit there on the ground the wind slightly blows the long grass that touches her shoulders in a light dance against her honey skin. Bandanna in her gold wind swept hair. That’s when I saw her, for the first time since I met her i understood her. For what she truly was and is to me.

Her voice is not the waves in the ocean but the sound of the sand when the waves crash against the grains.

Her essence is not the summer rain, but the smell of the rain before it comes and the first cool drop to hit your warm body.

Her thoughts are not clear and precise, but muddled like an abstract painting with colors like you’ve never seen before.

Her body is not sculpted by the sculptor, but detailed marks caressing her strong thighs to her soft chest could only be given by strength.

Her touch is not just skin on skin, she reaches with intention, with the pull of her own emotions.

Her laugh is not the most beautiful sound you’ve heard, but it’s laced with genuine serenity.

Her eyes are not the brightest shade of sky blue, but the depths of the darkest ocean in the eye of a storm.

In her own simple small ways , she is a dream.

The kind they write about in books. The kind you didn’t know you could want until you had it.

So I reached out, touching her shoulder where the grass danced. Nothing ever looked so beautiful in my life.