The breeze speaks, and the trees rustle their leaves like butterflies alighting on wildflowers
Her light voice plays gently in the grass, whispering along at my feet
making her presence known through her light touch on my skin, twirling up, tousling my hair
Flowers bob as if bowing as she passes, acknowledging her playful dignity
Then the world grows quietly still as she flits away, the flora less lively here while she roams in search of new playmates