She

And here she is... So glamorous, so extraordinary, so marvelous, so splendid...

Oh but let me tell you about her...

I couldn't take my eyes off her the first time I saw her. I still can't.

She thinks it's silly.

She was born happy and smiling. Unlike anyone I've seen.

She cries a lot. Sometimes on pillows, sometimes on carpets, sometimes in teacups.

She is everything. All in all. Everyone.

She is bone of my bones, blood of my blood, soul of my soul...

I try to kiss her more so she doesn't forget.

I kiss her lips and I kiss her knees.

The way she laughs tickles me.

I find her bracelets and rings all over the floor. And when I ask her about it she just rolls her eyes and smiles.

She has brown hair but sometimes it looks golden.

And her eyes glow.

And she walks on tiptoes and sways around halls.

She touches guardrails and marvels at gardens with tulips growing in them.

She dreams of pretty curtains and black plates because that's who she is... Simple yet way beyond my understanding.

And she keeps memories in a box... a shoe box, a perfume box, a cereal box.

And she doesn't catch butterflies or fireflies because that would be so rude, she says.

She's fireworks and flower petals.

She's angel wings and spring buds.

She is а sea breeze.

She is green ticklish grass.

She is rays of sunlight among tree branches.

And I don't always give her what she wants. And I hate it.

And she still doesn't mind.

And we have a secret me and her house.

And she loves to look into old blue eyes.

And she cries when someone says something nice.

And sometimes she's so ridiculous... and it's so awesome.

And I could go on forever.

But I'm sure there are still things I don't know. And it's OK.

Because I have the whole time in the world to find out.

And I don't mind being small compared to her.

Because she...

She is...