galaxy eyes

We sit on a train rushing through the hills of Italy. Rain hits the polished windows like a long forgotten melody. But you cannot focus on the melancholy rain or the whispering hills because there is a beautiful woman across from you, her delicate hands folded on top of her red skirt. Her eyes track the distance outside of the train, and yours simply admire her. The curve of her lips. The splatter if golden freckles across her high cheekbones. The warm brown of her curling hair. Then she looks at you, with her lovely galaxy eyes, and you realize you’ve forgotten about the loveliness of love in a hateful world.