He has the kindest face. No wait, he really does.
I have spent years looking into maelstroms, avalanches, Zingers, bammers and zoomers. They're very exciting. They rip your heart out and leave it hanging out to fry.
I always thought I'd love a blue-eyed man. Blue seemed to be comforting, blue seemed to be safe.
I love a brown-eyed man. Not golden, not flecked, not hazel or opal,-brown.
His gaze always says 'I love you'. Always.
I am an unreasonable and moody git and still those eyes say 'I love you'.
I storm and rant and create maelstroms in my wake, those eyes and the lips underneath kiss my forehead and tell me I'm beautiful.
Brown is patient, brown is kind, brown is slow to anger and quicker to forgive. Brown is the earth and the mountains. Rocks and stones sing my love.
My man of earth comforts me. My man of earth makes my body quake. My man of earth has fingers and words of mist.
My man of earth spends his days trying to make me happy. Sometimes it is not possible. He always tries.
My man of earth.
I know this is a romantic post and all (photo was one of my favourites, too), and I shouldn't point this out, but that second last paragraph just made me laugh in understanding:
ReplyDeleteMy man of earth spends his days trying to make me happy. Sometimes it is not possible. He always tries.
Yeah well, you know better than most:-)
ReplyDelete