It was her that I saw through the trees

on a dark warm summer night

as the moon had lit up her face

and planted stars in her eyes.

It was her that I smelled through the flowers,

she was sweet, she was satisfying,

and as her scent lingered around me

we became one, and we danced the night away.

It was I that I felt falling in love with her

over and over again, when the sun rose and the sun set.

In the late late hours of the night after

the sun kissed the moon goodnight.

It was her.

It has always been her,

from the moment I laid eyes on those

forest green eyes and golden hair.

It was her I want to love at all hours

of all the many days we have been served.

It is her. It will always be her.

Photo by Kaique Rocha: https://www.pexels.com