There was a simple beauty in her love for him. It did not consume or destroy her. It did not burn. It simply existed. Like air or water or earth. There was a wholeness in his presence. A casual comfort to being with him. That was their love. He wasn’t the perfect or the end. He was just. He was. She was calm and quiet in the shelter of his arms. And he was rain on a spring day.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: