We ran through the canola field, your dress swinging like a feather in the wind, your hair as red as a fox and as full as the ocean waves. You were the most beautiful flower of all, though I was surrounded by masses. But when I opened my eyes you were not there. It was an illusion, it was rare. Rarely, since I saw you only in my dreams. So wild, untamed and wonderful by any means. My "fleur rouge".