She was tall and lean, but softly woman, with gentle swell of hip and breast beneath the diaphanous gown of silky white, which flowed about her in the caressing breeze. Her long blond hair sweetly framed her kindly face, blue eyed and lightly kissed by sun dropped freckle, with full red lips that needed no color. The touch of her hand revealed skin so soft as to be but a kiss upon the cheek and the scent of her was as the sea, crashing to shore in a gale. My dream, was she. My dream, is she. My dream, dreamed.
And just for grins - a shot from Tipp City, taken last weekend.
Ndinombethe - "As I go, I am wearing you."