I Think Of Her

Every time I think of her, I think of the ocean. Salty seaspray, the sound of lapping waves, the warm sand beneath my feet, and her Dolce & Gabbana Light Blue perfume that grazes her skin. I think about the way her light caramel skin glowed after lovemaking. The way her finger nimble and strong making Kadun Pika with sticky steamed rice. I recall being mesmerized by her talent and amazing skill creating works of art with tiered cakes, pecan tarts, and chocolate-dipped cream puffs all made from scratch.

I remember the way her light-brown hair cascaded her shoulders with long locks. The coils were an untamed crown that begged to be intertwined in your fingers.

I listen to her tell me her life, her heart, and her soul at the end of the night. I think of how she fell asleep on the phone to the rhythm of my voice or the way exhaustion sliced into her and drug her down into slumber.

I hear her laughter, I see the wood necklace that floats on her neck and hovers just before her cleavage. I recall not only the curves of her body that caught many eyes but the gentleness of her heart.

I think of how she’d give her last money to the homeless. The unfailing church attendance and faith to her unseen Creator. Her example inspiring to everyone around her.

I think about the day she agreed to marry me when I knelt at her oldest son’s gravestone and asked for his permission to marry his mother. How teary she was when we returned to her home to proclaim our engagement, and her parents had already known I was proposing by my previous inquisition for their blessing.

The magic of love is unpredictable and more powerful than all the celestial heavens combined. I think about her body as she showers or lies asleep under the blanket. When her father and sister passed her cries into my chest wrapped her pain into my strength. Her screams when I failed her or triggered painful memories of her past.

Her anger would be full of wrath and blow through the house like a fire tornado, or her humor would flood the home with joy like diving underwater.

I think about the queen that she is.

It’s all I can do not to flirt with the woman that has built her life, sacrificed so much, and said yes under the Pacific island sun.

The born and raised native woman extended her familial link to give our children better options. She did not know how much more love her heart had until two granddaughters were born. The glint in her hazel eyes still sparkling.

I think of her at work. In my dreams. And I crave her.

Today is the same. My thoughts drip in my mind like beads of sweat. I miss her.

Maybe I can seduce her tonight and bring a smile to her with lots of loving passion. She needs to relieve some stress. This will be all about her being sated into slumber.

I think this island woman is an ocean that has the scent of Dolce & Gabbana Light Blue perfume.