The woman of my dreams
Late at night the soft wind blows,
Billowing clouds upon the soft sweet snow.
My heart grows wary with each new sigh,
given the insipid brightness that hangs in the sky.
Oranges, reds, purples, yellows, and was that a hint of green she saw there on the perfect canvas? She smiled to herself and carefully folded her hands together as she let herself fall back down on the wooden ramp with her feet dangling down towards the water.
Here and there she dances before me,
Quick as the robin that darts before his tree.
Her hair as dark as the bark I lay under,
Who's leaves provided the soothing shady slumber.
A year ago, if she was asked if she would consider splattered paint art, she would have laughed in that sweet voice of hers and very softly would've replied no and then would've given a long reason while studying the other person's body language to make sure that she did not hurt his or her feeling.
But ever since she moved from New York to this heavenly place, her perspective on everything had changed completely.
Her laugh as melodious as a cool breeze,
Playing and teasing her lock of hair; free.
Given the daze that I had fallen under,
With the pale hypnotic eyes which reflected the golden amber.
Oh in the late of night, where the soft wind blows,
Billowing clouds on the soft sweet snow.
She let out a giggle at seeing the seagulls diving into the water to her left and then rising up to the top again, as if playing hide and seek. The amusement and the little happiness she got everyday from these small animals did do wonders for her and yet left her in awe as to how that was possible. How could seeing the same dark silhouettes of the seagulls against the brightly decorated lit sky could bring her so much peace again and again. She had no answer to this question and nor did it matter, all she knew was she loved it here and couldn't live without her new furry friends.
The touch, the innocence, the utter beauty,
God did his job well, he did his duty.
Made her eyes as deep as the deep blue sea,
Keepsake of her secrets, her desires, her soul carefree.
She had been coming to the beach every day, to this exact same spot she lay on now; on a ramp that went mid-way into the water and had rocks outlining the end of either side of it. By the edge of the ramp, where only she sat, lay a white porcelain- like rock beside the pale peach pillar that was used to support the ramp. It was on that pale peach pillar, where her prince charming came every 3 months to add to his poem. And that white porcelain-like rock was probably where he sat and wrote it.
She sighed inwardly as she closed her eyes and quietly recited the poem he wrote for his dream girl to herself and soon fell asleep.
She prances to her own melody,
No one to stop, no one to see her, apart from me; nobody.
Oh how she wish, she was the one he was writing about, the one he dreamed about, the one that danced under the billowing clouds on the soft sweet snow, the one he was in love with. This was another thing that had changed since she moved from the city a year ago, she, Meera Dave, was completely and utterly in love with a person that she did not even know, not his name, nor his occupation, nor his age, all she knew was that he was the prince of her dreams.
Oh how in the late of night, the soft wind blows,
Billowing clouds on the soft sweet snow.
She slowly opened her eyes as she felt a gush of wind waltzing over her, creating a blanket of frosty reminder. She frowned as she saw the dark sky above her. Like all of the other 352 days that she had been coming here, she had missed the sunset...again. Meera sighed as she got up, dusted off her royal blue sundress and left for her house, alone.
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