He dreamt her in burgundy and brome again. Highlights of her hair as rays of evening sun, lovely and long and falling from shadow of roots—like shadow of cloud—to touch of bed and spread of brome; white painted toes of her bare and crossed feet in sit and gazing on the sun.
Musing, pensive—silent distance of a thought saved for herself alone.
Returning, changing in her countenance: thought and spirit near and present once again.
Her smile.
Her eyes.
Pine in his heart at sight of the beauty of she in light of the evening hour.