Her name means the House of God.

Sunday came in peacefully; as it so often does,
Its skies still golden from dawn when we woke,
Staring into each others eyes.
That cool breeze of spring filling the room with the scent of passing rain,
Hiding in the white linen of morning fog,
Those first flowers of spring dance gently.
Your eyes sparkle and you blush,
You know I’m lost in them.
My hand on your back tracing you, knowing every inch by memory,
Seems at home, just as my noses brushes against the tip of your nose,
Your hand on my chest feels my heart, just as though you were holding it:
As indeed you do.
The Sun rises lazily into the sky, casting light about you like a halo,
Your hair burning that fiery red of sun set,
All the while gentle light plays about your ivory skin.
Sunday morning marches along, revealing crystal skies,
Still we lie there, ignoring all the world,
And still in each others eyes seeing:
All the world.