His locks of autumn hay hair and chocolate eyes that accompanied that grin full of pearls beamed at her.
Her hair and glimmering orbs framed those rosy cheeks in a way that drew kindness to her face.
Both young and stupidly in love as their hands grazed each other's backs and hips, he closed his eyes as lips pressed themselves against his.
Red faced laughter brought their hearts closer.
The extended fragile arms and fingers that brushed against the emotions that seeped from their smiles and reckless behaviour were from the flight of the heart. Large hands held the rubber handles with Vans on the worn out peddles whose wheels had taken him on many daydreams.
Their dark jean clad legs and colorful socks dangling over the ledge of a cobblestoned bridge, shoe laces loose and bodies shaded by a warm afternoon.
The bright stars raced ahead, followed by moon's lover as dusk drowned itself in the dark sea.
Hands intertwining as the grass tickled their forearms and necks, they listened to the day come and go, smelling the seasons that rose and died.
His hand grasped the hands of the wild flowers besides him, time leaving an aged evergreen within his tired soul.
Yet above his still beating heart sprang a drooping tulip as she grew into a forest, never to be trodden in.