She smelled like the outdoors, cheeks and nose flushed like a baby in her first winter snow.
There were places on her body that reminded him of honeysuckle and a familiar something he knew he wanted someday fully, but not yet.
He watched her cradle a cup of tea, eyes sparkling from what she'd seen on her long lonely walk.
He could hear the birds in her laugh and the gentle way her fingers stroked his skin like reeds in the wind.
He loved her wildness. Nature consumed her hungrily.
She was a woman-child feeding herself on the earth.
Even when they slept he could feel her heart pounding as light made its way across the bed
murmuring sounds made the blood and bones in her body
an endless loop of mystery.
He felt (hoped) her sneaking glances at him while he slept rumpled, content.
She stood in the indoor sun
serene and natural
soft and gently aging.