Winter snow melted away.
Warm front arrived and, together, they dreamt of coming spring—yellow daffodils in rise and wake from long of winter’s sleep.
Across in room, he gazed on his wife dressed in yellow hue. In repose, she sat in loveseat place before wide and bright of window view letting in the falling sun. Legs in fold beneath her lap, jeans shaped and fitting well to form, high body posed in upright and lean upon the loveseat’s back. Yellow shirt covered her high in thin of linen-fine, its front loose buttoned and free showing cleft and inner curve of breasts as her nipples tented through the fine, drawing to end the linen fall as sensual of their rounded base shadowed through the yellow bright.
It was her summer color. It was lovely, too, upon her then—in near of spring and winter’s end, waked life’s begin again.
In her hue, whether true of mind conspired, he breathed her sweet of lemon scent enriched of floral fragrance tones. In her bright and fragrant air, like bee, he was drawn into her bloom; beauty of her rest and wait in fall and full of sun.
Sunlight’s fall upon her hair that seemed as catch and embodiment of ray, twisted, curled, in spiral fall onto touch of yellow bright and center’s fairer sight.
Sensing his eyes and energy on, she returned her own to him: quiet smile in sunlight room that seemed as spring, scent of her body enriched and expanded in the warmth and bright of sun.
Flutter of his heart, his belief her own did too, she turned her eyes after keep of their meet, coy change within her smile. Hand rose from lap to musing touch, tracing light cleft and path of loosened buttons’ trail.
Looking out from window, she dreamt daffodils in lawn again—yellow, bright, and bursting—risen and awake from long of winter’s sleep.