[ R E A C H ]

[my love, she is]

When she is happy, she is made of sunshine,

and smiles, and laughter.

She is like a melted sunrise blended together with the flavor of lemon and warm sweet tea.

When she is sad, she is like a raincloud.

A thunderstorm on the precipice of the first lightning strike.

She is stormy gray and the way the air smells just after the rain has gone.

When she is angry, she is like a firestorm, hot and raging and red.

Fierce and untameable, she is the red of cinnamon candy.

My love for her is sometimes lavender.

Pale and soft and gentle.

It is the same as a soft, warm blanket, comforting and protective.

Sometimes my love for her is maroon.

Claiming and passionate like a rosethorn on the reddest of roses.

And sometimes I can only describe my love as orange.

My one color without description, ever changing, yet bright and warm and wonderful.