. . . . she is my paradise.   comfortably sitting still in each others presence under the weeping of the willows,  there we are.  she talks to me in conversation,  i get lost in her beauty.   the late june afternoon  found itself to be a little warm.    the clouds lazily pass by,   peek a boo,  and there’s the sunshine.   the water slowly rushes by in the creek,  flowing at our side.    the mockingbirds toss around a song that plays as a soundtrack for the days afternoon.   i gaze deeply into her eyes,   the radiant beauty that pours out  from within her,  she amazes me.  the green, lush grass,  cool and soft surrounds us as we sit,  and the ant crawls in between the blades.   i reach for her hand,   hold it gently,  and her smile sneaks in,  making me smile in return.   the open fields of wildflowers welcomes  the passing  butterfly,  and a bee flys off  the orange daylily.  gently,  the leaves on  the tree branches dance in the passing by breeze.   the late afternoon sun glows a soft orange off her skin,  and on her face.   the shade of  a  willow branch dances back and forth,   blocking  the sun from her eyes.    the kiss appears,   as the sun slowly disappears.   quickly i gather some extra kindling and start the evenings campfire.   and now the suns glow is replaced by the moon glow,  fire glow.   the starry night blankets the canvas,  and our conversations are interrupted by our  hands and our kisses.   the tall grass under that willow,  cool and soft,  surrounds where we are.   and the stars look  upon us,   never saying a word.   she is a masterpiece,   and if i told her that,   she’d blush and wouldn’t believe me.   afterglow by the fire,  i read her some of my poetry.  after a while,  we took our lantern and walked the worn out path  that ran beside the stream.  our conversation turned to comfortable silence.  i  gently turn you around and take you in my arms,  holding you close in my arms,  there we are.   we stand in the middle of this field,  the moon shinning  down,  and the locus’ sing .   there,  in each others arms,  her face pressed on my shoulder,  she tells me that she needs me.   and between the darkness of the night and the glow of the lantern,  i look into her eyes as  if that could possibly say it all,  and i deeply kiss her.   we turn and head back to the tent and campfire.  on the way back,   the feelings came out,  and the wall she built to protect,  somehow was crumbling.   zipping up the tent behind me,  we head to bed,  but not a moment before the expressions of our feelings were shared.   the passion that  is deep and true is brighter than all the stars put together;  and she’s a masterpiece.   painted into the starry  night sky or in the mid days sun,  everything about her completes the painting  and compliments everything around her.   pale colours turn bright and vibrant.  work of art wrapped in a frame of  perfection.  but,  if i told her that she’s a masterpiece,  she’d just blush,  and the brush will just,  continue to paint. . . . .

c. 2013  BGW

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