The smell of oriental rice fills the house.
Her dress spins lightly across the kitchen, humming softly, she drops a trickle of salt into the pan.
Her shirt is a 1970′s beauty. Colorful, light dances upon the silk pink of her cheeks.
A smile is such a joy when it is accompanied with the thought of someone close, dear, loved.
The hum flows to his ears and to his heart strings.
As a butterfly on a freshly rained leaf, he lays back and savors the voice of his beauty, his joy,
his sweetness.
Her sweetness could send him into a diabetic disease.
His intelligence finds her each and every time, true to admire, she can never get enough of him.
Does the rest around them matter? Oh but no, it does not.
Indeed, it does not.
She ruffles over to him, kisses his nose quickly, and runs away giggling girlishly.
Its these little things that she does that make him superbly adore her every particle.
She is the epitome of all his needs and wants.
Perfection wrapped in so many layers it is impossible to complete in one life.
They complete each other, she is like the melt to his chocolate.
The sharp to his cut, and the swipe to his slide.
She sways her hair back and forth, sunlight touching but only the tips of her brown hair, further detailing the pure excellence in which it sits.
His hands comes up her neck as she turns, her eyes glistening in front of him, she giggles and says
“you smell like tapioca pudding, dear”
Continuing to giggle, she continues preparing dinner with a slight dance in her walk.
He simply adores her.
Simply adores.
beautifuly touching