The subtle swell of red hills, dense
with camellias and red tulips
who sway and dance so softly
to the steady rhythm of some
silent, somber song.
I can see, too, the occasional
ruby-throated hummingbird
flitting in time to this quiet melody;
All of this nestled sweetly against
an alabaster horizon, that long,
pale blanket of sky.
The sun, a rose suspended
as if by sorcery.
My eyes take in the silhouette
of a nearby weeping willow
which frames this
spectacular scene.
It was here, in this most
unlikely of places;
It was here
where I first saw her:
The Gazelle,
lithe and limitless;
her coat glittering
in the late days light.
One look and her spell was cast.
I am hers, now.
You hear me, don’t you?
I am yours, now.
