His wife smells like flowers in bloom,
like a rose garden,
like a cherry blossom tree
extending its branches
in the way that she extends love, mercy, and kindness.
And he's in awe of her,
granted she picks up the smell of flowers
from working among them all day,
but even with that,
it's still incredible
and even such a beautiful smell.
Her hair is still tied up in a half messy bun,
and Zen still doesn't think he knows how to breathe around her,
even as he rests a hand on her face,
right over her cheek,
and runs a few of his fingers
over the loose strands that fall from her bun
and she's smiling that soft smile
that leaves even his heart stuttering.