Imagine her with flowers in her hair.
I do.
Since I met her and was smitten.

Completely overboard.
Smitten.

Flowers in her hair,
She is the free spirit of spontaneous 
Joyousness
I need.

Her lips are like flowers,
Scented and vibrant
With color,
And with bright, brilliant
Words of wisdom,
Truth,
And honest declarations
Of loving dispensation.

She appears to bloom
As she gazes into my eyes,
Blossoming into an ideal.
A never empty
Trove
Of possibilities.

A garden of charms
Bursting with luxuriant 
Promise, 
With flowers in her hair.

Let me put a flower behind my ear,
In my hair,
And I shall join her,
As we spin out together down the pathway
To impulsive, impetuous 
Abandon.

With flowers in our hair.