She came to him with blossoms in her hair, intertwined with curls, tickling her sun-kissed shoulder, and trailing down her spine. Her smile nestled mischievously beneath a nose wrinkled in that particular way, just for him. Her eyes sparkled like fire-formed gems, smoothed by ocean waves. Her eyelashes fanned the storm with a thousand threads of night above those sparkling stars.
Her feet were bare and calloused, and each step was as lithe that bespoke days running amongst weeds and thorns. She had faint red scratches from ferns who could not help but reach out to osculate against the fine radiance of her muscled calf. Her hips swayed as loped toward him, covered in thin cotton that whispered in the breeze. It pressed up against her flesh, as if it too, knew the value of what was beneath it and the pleasure to touch.
Her shoulders were thrown back in that brazen display of bravado, of she who forgot humility and pitied uncertainty. The motion exposed her clavicle, the strong bone which vied for prominence over the slender breast beneath it, covered by that veil of white fabric.
Her arms were as free and strong as her spirit, muscles glistening against the heat of the day as sunlight played against its surface. They swung near her hips, brushing against the skin of her thigh with the power of her stride. And then, they were out, reaching for him as he reached for her, just longing to hold her in his arms.
Their necks interlocked as their hearts pressed together to beat as one, in one spirit, as one whole. The ache, the fervor that had taken him each night he could not see her was overcome by the thrall of soul-wrenching pleasure of having her again. With his nose against her hair, he could smell her scent: the fragrant wildflowers, the poignant pine needles, the fertile earth, and her perspiration. It was really her beneath his arms. It was her. It was her.
Words failed him. His legs felled him, and suddenly they were in the tall grass, still knit together and breathless with joy. His lips found her as hers found his, desperate to touch again, to be as one once more. Thoughts fled upon the onrushing wave of bliss, as they lost themselves in one embrace.
With blossoms in her hair, they met in a pine grove. With blossoms in her hair, they loved.