The wind messed up her hair, and she struggled to keep them together. Personally I loved it when her hair flew about in the wind, but I could also understand how annoying it could be for her.
She caught me looking. Even if it was a cold day I could see heat rush up to her face.
"What!?" She asked, exasperated.
"Nothing," I smirked.
I never understood the notion of 'love is in the air' until I saw her magnificent hair sway in the wind. Every motion seemed to be slowed down to one tenths of a second, and its luscious darkness would threaten to take over the sky. For eons I have wished to lay in her lap and hope that the blanket of her hair would cloud out the tampering sun.
She rearranged her locks, and tried to tie them together. But the wind had other plans. It somehow heard my plea and agreed that she looked way better with her hair open to the world, and blew even more strongly.
After fifteen minutes and multiple attempts of tying them, she finally had her ponytail. Her patience with the wind, and her multiple tries at protecting and taking care of something she beloved so much made me wonder. Despite the number of times she could not knot, and no matter how many time the wind affronted her efforts, she stuck to it and kept going at it again and again. Try after try she kept her patience, she gave herself the opportunity and the scope to tame the wind and my desire, and eventually succeeded.
That made me realize something.
What is it that's the most important thing in keeping and taking care of love?