When she wore Gardenias in her hair………

When she was tender in years and wore Gardenias in her hair, they listened to the crackling fire as sparks made their way up the chimney to freedom. In a cabin obscured from the outside world, he would brush aside a strand of long red hair from her face and whisper his adoration. And as a shiver ran through her, his breath would catch as he lingered there.

When she was tender in years and wore Gardenias in her hair, they listened to soft music from another time. In a smoke-filled room, aglow with amber lighting, he would brush aside a strand of long red hair from her face and look into her eyes. And as a shiver ran through her, he leaned-in to caress her face with his and he lingered there.

When she was tender in years and wore Gardenias in her hair, they listened to the sound of the ocean as it surged against the rocks and sprayed droplets of cool water across their warm embrace. In the smolder of an orange sun as it sizzled the edge of the earth, he would brush aside a strand of long red hair from her face and smile. And as a shiver ran through her, a kiss from his lips found its way to her lips as he lingered there.

When she was tender in years and wore Gardenias in her hair, she heard the timbre of sorrow. And as a shiver took hold, and a strand of long red hair caressed the moistness of her face, she lay down a Gardenia on the mound of fresh dirt burdened at her feet – and she lingered there.
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