His Fairytale

She was the enamoring seductress of a bucolic countryside,

A guileless beauty unaware of the depths of her own charm.

She felt like the most serene dawn after a chaotic tempest,

A never-felt before tranquility for his turbulent soul.

A quaint waltz of the springs and the wildflowers,

She felt like a balm for his erratic heart - perhaps a panacea for his existence.

It wasn't a naive kind of love, which makes your heart race,

It was the kind of love which feels like a lullaby for a perturbed mind,

A soothing anodyne. 

He was simply in awe of the being that she was,

His very own silver lining amidst the dark clouds of artifice.

And when he beheld her within his arms, he could seldom ever describe -

Put in words, the way he felt.

Not that he really needed to do so, she was a part of his soul,

And all he knew was one day, for sure,

He would grow all old and wrinkly with her hand in his own,

And he would not have his fairytale any other way.