The sound of her voice,
Like a summer breeze.
Like a slow tempo.
Moments in a daze,
When you look into her eyes,
For as you look into them you see,
Far more then passion brown eyes,
But you see something deeper that buzzes your every interest...
Eyes that are willing to cry, bleed for you.
The sensation and chill with every glance.
Her eyes compliment her beauty.
Her touch so soft like she isn't there.
The stroke of appreciate,
Flowing through the tip of her fingers.
Smooth as ice,
But not just with the words she speaks,
But the load of Independence.
Slow motion combines within her,
As in the walk of gratitude,
When she walks toward you.
The feeling in your heart,
It beats magic,
As it praises the welcome of joy.
And as your heart joins with hers,
They run off into the distance,
Making anything possible.
For her beauty, her words,
Has always been something scientist could never calculate,
Not even the most simplest hint of understandings.
For she has the special power to shift you into a deep sleep,
To make you have dreams that dared life to come into reality.
She refreshes you like the morning dewdrops,
She entices you to remember why you are alive.
She is overly kind and hard to get away from.
When she attacks you with her over bearing ways,
You can't help but smile,
Knowing what you have to face.
If you treat her just right,
She will stand by you helping you carry your heavy load,
She will care for you,
She will forgive your every sin,
She will make you feel genuine,
She will stay with you beyond the unexpected forever.
What is this woman's name?
They call her...
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Book / Romance
Book / Romance
Book / Editorial and Opinion
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