Her

I don't know what to think about this one sometimes I like it sometimes I don't.

Eyes deep crimson red.
Bewitching, enchanting, blissful.
A living work of art.

Her hair flows in long tangled streams.
Caressing her flexing shoulders,
ensconcing her face.

That face: a myriad of cliffs and valleys.
Truly the height of her beauty.
It is not nearly as entrancing,
as her skill for dancing.

Twirling and meandering she goes.
Pirouetted elegance;
until time and space seem small.
Insignificant, meaningless
when compared to her.

For she is my little rock floating in space.
Delighting me with every turn.

I am happy to call her home.