She moves like water,
underneath the bridge,
and scatters like salt over a shoulder,
in a whimsical wish.
She is as free as the leaf,
floating on the wind,
as playful as a pup,
and the bird that sings.
She is as delicate as a butterfly,
as it comes to rest upon a finger,
and in my heart I want nothing more,
than for her sweet scent to linger.