COTTON CLOUDS FOR HER

Her words were a breeze
brushing my neck,
soft hands, a comfort
upon my shoulders,
I could feel her smile,

sitting in a field of
possibilities, on a blanket
of joy, in her laugh I am
her whirling dervish,

I reached high picking
cotton clouds for her,
out of the blue,
diving into her eyes, the
clearest waters to her soul,

I watched
dandelions in their silent
applause, and the bees left
to forage, for her's was a love
they could not capture.