its simple

A breeze sneaks in through the window.  I welcome its touch on my face, and the scents of the coming spring it carries.  I peer out the rain streaked window, the overcast light does nothing to dampen my spirits as I watch the day slide past in each drop.   No great insights come, no profound meaning to take my life to some new, higher realm, just plain and simple beauty.

One more:

There is something on the breeze when you walk past.  I catch just a hint of your smell, it excites me with its unexplainable humanness and a hint of flowers.  There is something about the way your clothes fit, the way you move, and the way that same breeze messes up your hair in such a way that nothing else could.  I have not even started to speak about your voice, and yet I need not, because I want to talk about human.  That space between godliness, and dirt.  The way time wears us in, and we gain so much charm.  I will never know why my heart feels as it does, or how so much beauty can be contained in the most simple of acts of you being you.  No need to dress up, so perfect in everyday.