Grass presses against her face like a comb brushing hair.

The olive colored blades end at where her freckles begin.

Like the ants of this field we lay in,

they sprawl across her face and spot her complexion with umber hues.

This field;

this night;

her.

Warmth flows through my chest as I gaze into her blue eyes,

oceans that reflect a better me.

I know that what she perceives isn't truly me -

no;

it is a composition of things that she has seen from what I have shown her.

From what I have wanted her to see.

Yet what I would give to be that man mirrored in her oceanic gaze.

To be the green lilies to her Monet.

An aspect of her life,

even just for a second,

like the brief strokes from Claude's masterful touch.

George Dibble is a twenty one year old creative, who believes that continuing in one’s learning and expression is integral to a fruitful life. Analyzing films, skateboarding with friends, and writing to represent individuals and subcultures, George enjoys being involved with activities that require self-growth. Aspiring to be an editor for articles, George wishes to help others convey their thoughts and emotions in a meaningful and authentic way.