Sitting in the Field

Sitting in the field, I gaze
Into your blue green eyes.
Your internal beauty awes my
primitive and ignorant mind.
Skin as soft as silk, eyes;
gem stones, master crafted
to form and intricate maze
of colour, centered by black.

You sleep, head layed on
a pillow of soft grass.
A flower caught in your light
brown hair, a slight breeze
sends waves rippling through.
It seemed to me that your
eyelids fluttered as you
slept.
The heavenly sun illuminating
your sleeping form.