She places the wildflower behind my ear. Ever so gently she adjusts it and then – she smiles at me, satisfied with her work. There you go, you’re a delight to behold. Feeling a bit silly, I grin back. If you insist, my love. Only for you. And so now we mosey on down the trail towards the falls far ahead. We can hear them now, but barely. The sound of water crashing is music to my ears and I thrill to imagine the rainbow through the spray. But first the path afore us must be trod. I reach out my hand and feel her fingers with my own. For a few minutes we walk without conversation as the symphony of the forest fills our ears. Down through the canopy filters late afternoon sunlight dappling the path in patterns grander and more wild than any painter could fathom. We are close now as we see the trees begin to dance back away from the path. Oh there! Her clear voice breaks into the symphony like a trumpet call from the balcony. I see it I reply. And then I cannot help but ask. Do you hear the music? She smiles and nods in response as we feel the mist upon our face. And oh do you smell the violets? Strong and pure and sweet their scent rises to dance upon the breeze. She turns slightly towards me, the smile still hovering on her lips in subconscious joy. There are rainbows in her eyes.