My lady was hippie cool when I first saw her.
Clad in splayed bell bottom jeans she made herself.
Baggy, wild print shirts, and and bells dangling from hemp ropes woven into her her hair.
A beautiful fairy princess.
She shed the hippie attire to stand in arabesque on pink pointe. One leg weighted to the ground, while the rest of her floated to a heaven she desperately wanted me to believe in.
My lady wore hot red pants one night and was the fist to say “I love you” because she has more courage than I.
My lady followed me to white sand shores to become my wife.
Encouraged me to the soar amongst the monoliths of the greatest city in the world and then carried our roots on a pilgrimage to the emerald soil of the Northwest.
My lady, my wife, my friend.
Why do I love you so?
Because I love to breathe. I love the sun on my skin. I love common sense, and truth and beauty, and smiles.
You are the missing rungs on my ladder that allow me to climb higher.
You are…my beautiful.