Waterlily

Resting on the sofa

Her face spelled out a tranquil setting as unruly golden waves of hair rushed down her shoulders as her freckles seemed like sprinkled peppers. Her countenance as gleaming stars in June's sky, and her skin as pastel, it almost seemed as if she was from a cinematic scene. Yet there she was laying, deep in slumber brought to my attention the melodious words

For oft when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood,

They flash upon that inward eye

Which is the bliss of solitude;

And then my heart with pleasure fills,

And dances with the daffodils.

A question persists or as it lingers through my conscious "is she real? is this reality?" feeling a slight Movement "she's awaking" so I thought but only followed by more slumber as she continues this all spells out paradise in my lost world...

She's My water lily

The sight of her would bring my mind to recall Hans Zimmer's Great orchestral work called interstellar the sensations and warmth hidden inside the sounds resonates with what I see in her.

 How did I find her? A person might ask, Well...that's a long story but I Am afraid my time is limited but If I had to paint a brief picture, it would be of the self, finding balance by finding God then finding myself then I found her all this gave me purpose and this I would conclude echoes through the theme.

yet there she was, deep in slumber

the display of her overall ambiance character captured a profound mystery yet an open book. I am aware that may sound contradictory but yet very true, the Same sights I saw looking through the square of glass that separated our workplaces. she worked right next door this may sound preposterous yet Strangely I never really noticed her but once or twice mostly overwhelmed with taking tables, her hair mostly pined up as some hair would lay down, graceful expressions and elegance as the theme on her face or as a title in a book, her eyes changed like cape towns weather as crystals of blue sometimes a touch of green or lime radiating in softly swooping arcs

As I would take a break from work enjoying the cool beach breeze brushing against my face, a glimpse of her every day would come about as I would stand near the rose bowered porch

The memories play over each time as a chorus as familiar scenes would flash before me every time I looked in her direction

But what can I say

She's my paradise in a lost world...

This is my waterlily.