HerI have always been a dreamer. My most consistent, I guess you could say my most prolific dream is of Her.
Oddly enough, I married a blue eyed blonde with a bold and thinly veiled cold way about her that is much different than my dream.
But Her-my dream girl was always special; I wish in some ways that I had waited for her; though at the time, I was not deserving; and I had lives to live and to create.
From the very beginning as a young teenage boy listening to albums with the headphones as loud as Mom would let me, She was a vision in my mind as clear as day. Between AC/DC, Zeppelin and Deep Purple, I would play Fleetwood Mac-"Songbird" and she would come alive in my heart. She has eyes of brown, and pretty brown hair. She has a demure but graceful way about her, she held onto an old fashioned ideal in that melodic feminine voice that the rest of society has replaced with The Modern Woman-the working mom. The Equal to man instead of a gentle partner in love whose mission was to soothe the pain of life.
Her smile is irrepressible for her and hopelessly contagious to anyone blessed by a view of it.
She is America's Sweetheart; a relic from an age gone by; captured in the art of Disney and Victor Fleming. A precious creature made of Love.
The indescribable allure of her movements, ex
Her man is envied by all; she has a warmth, a generosity of touch and caring that epitomizes the ultimate mother, nurse, and lover. The same qualities cause women to be equally entranced, and yet inexplicably enraged when their man falls under the same spell.
She is an Angel with little red horns that come out only for Him. Her heart secretly burns with white hot passion. She loves him unconditionally, uncontrollably, and eternally. And he can't understand what he did to be so lucky.
My Her is out there. Somewhere. Someday. That, I promise to myself.
And to Her.