Not quite seven, and not quite awake, I suddenly rose to your beauty. Unconventional at best, but a refined symmetry ideal for a watercolor. I envied the way the sun kissed you that morning; so delicately pecking your cheek. Your eyes refracted pools of sadness, but an undefinable serenity. Were you safe in my flimsy arms? My pedestrian looks only enhancing your beauty. Was I not enough? Or maybe, too much.