A field of green grass

It was by chance we met,
In that field of green grass,
With the gale from the oncoming storm,
Like your eyes,
Was my first thought,
Your eyes like clouds and rain and wind,
My eyes like gold in that blazing sun,
Glinting off my hair and shining on my skin,
And you walked towards me with your dark hair swaying this way and that,
With the wind that was blowing the leaves and trees and clouds,
The clouds that held the storm among them,
The storm like your eyes,
Your eyes like the storm,
And the sun beat down on us warm and bright, 
Illuminating the dark clouds that would bring rain soon,
The rain in your eyes should cast a foreboding,
I thought,
But no,
Your eyes like rain and storm and wind brought hope,
Hope that you would find me,
With my eyes like dark rich honey, 
Against your icy cold eyes,
And dark black hair,
Against my shiny brown,
Brown like the fallen leaves in that field,
The leaves being blown this way and that from the wind and storm and ice,
But you,
With your eyes of deep gray and blue and silver and storm,
Stood in that field,
With the wind and the leaves and the grass and the sun and me...
And me with my eyes of umber and gold and wood and honey and leaves,
And me with my hair like hawks' feathers and chocolate and dead grass,
And me with skin like silk and bronze and sunny days,
And you,
And me,
In that field of green grass and storm and wind and sun,
And you.