First Date

We rode her trusty steed, A shiny yellow mustang, Clip-clop, down the ancient street. She had the look of a princess, Golden hair, halo-like Crowning a face Adorned with two emeralds. We pulled reins near a moss laden wall In front of the common house. She had a warmth and a scent That reminded me Of a country greenhouse. Her voice, not regal but refreshing Like laundered white linen. Quite comfortable, I thought, So far from home In the presence Of the rest of my life. Our lips blended two souls Under the harvest moon, Silence, Almost churchlike, With only the sound of our hearts.