She Loved Him

This is a small section from my novel. I'm just trying out some repetition. What do you think?

She loved him in the way that we all love our first time: unselfishly, thoroughly, unreservedly. She loved him with all the strength and power of her youth, and with all the passion and abandon of a wild thing. She loved him quietly, in a reverent, cathedral-like way, the silence only interrupted by murmurs of her affection. Yet, at the same time, she loved him loudly, in a shout-it-from-the-rooftops kind of way. She loved him in a free, campfire-on-the beach way; a rolling-in-the-sand-on-a-blanket way; a running-until-you-are-breathless way. Her love for him was like the way a little girl plucks the petals off of a daisy, knowing without a doubt that the he-loves-me-not petals don’t even really exist. And she loved him for who he was, who he was becoming, and most of all for who he was going to be. Her youth and inexperience in life didn’t bridle her love as it might have, but instead, it gave it wings. And with those wings she soared, never thinking that she might have to land again one day—never caring.