Hair golden as wheat that sparkles in the sun.
It falls down her back and curls
perfectly in all the right places.
It flows an spreads out
as she dances with bare feet
then falls neatly back in its spot when she stops and stares.
Her piercing green eyes
(can we pretend they're green?)
cut through the soul and make you think you've met her before.
In a dream
or a fantasy
or a memory.
Her lips, red as a rose, lightly pursed
right before she smiles.
Then they come together once more as she gets serious.
Like two rose petals.
Her gentle touch and light movements.
The way her eyes flutter when she sleeps.
Vulnerable.
The only time you'll see me vulnerable.
She becomes I and I become she and,
as my dress turns from ink to blue and back again,
walk again through the castle then fall asleep with me.
Perfection.