They call you, someone worthy of  being called a Goddess, so out of this world,
                     E T H E R E A L
  You walk through the soft wildflower
patches, who bow to you, the one capable of even more beauty than themselves.

  From the other side, by an old willow tree, i watch you in awe. not quite capable of looking away, neither capable of surviving the sight of you.

  Your white dress flows with the passing breeze. In that moment, all i wanted to be was the warm air who brushed past your collarbones, your tan shoulders and your flower-scented hair, addorned with the petals that fell from the colorful wreath you're wearing.