The Woman.

It's the scent of that woman that you'll remember.
It's the wind that whisked through her hair that you'll recall.
And when she passed the twists and turns, playing under the beam of the fading sunlight.
In the drinks she spilled over leftover conversations.
In the smell of coffee that brewed across her favorite bistro.
Her broken trinkets in the corners of your window sill.

And how she talked of faraway castles, dreams of treading unknown lands with her lover.
You'll fondly remember her for her unendling flowing drapes.
How she jumped at the thought of trading through bazaars.
You'll reminisce her chain of advices, pumped at times when you dipped low
For all that she did or said, that flashed joy across your countenance
For all that she was, that make you think of her
Between hours, odd or fair

Because she made you feel what it was to feel
She made you run through your own emotions that ran deep down
Because she appeared in the brightness of the day, to make it brighter than it could
Because she made you fall in love.