The dragonflies around the campfire, the branches drenched with starlight,
the moon drizzling down the moonlight and me,
we all noticed when she blushed in the light of the night.
I dreamed of her just an afternoon before, she did not say a word
but she was magic.
She, like the wildflowers she picks on her way home,
she, like the river that she spent the summers of 99 in,
she, like soap bubbles, she like rosewater,
She has always been my happiest season.
And by season I mean a storm,
and by storm I mean her lips always tasted like storms,
her hands, the lightning
and her whispers, the thunder.
I swear there were rainbows on my pillow after spending a night in the shade of her tornado.
She talked to the moon on the 1st of December
and she invited the stars over for dinner on the 3rd.
she picked all the pebbles on the beach and she cried when she saw the ocean,
I always tried to match my skirts with her shirts in the hope that she would notice,
She smiled crimson when we danced on The Beatles in the living room,
for no reason at all.
She, like the shotgun that she smells like in her moon-goddess phase,
She, like the pocket-knife she keeps in her purse,
she, like the metal music, she like the dark shade of lipstick,
She has always been my favourite warrior.
And by warrior, I mean a dragon,
and by dragon I mean she has a soul like that of a dragon,
her soul, the fiery breaths
and her spirit, the red flowery flame.
I swear there is more fire in her than a forest drizzling with gasoline.
The summer curled in her rain-soaked pyjamas,
the waterbeds bubbling up with elated midnight wishes, the stars shimmering and winking on the dinner table and me,
we all noticed when she blushed when I told her that I loved her.
I dreamed of her for a lifetime, she did not say a word,
but she was magic.
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