Hello, my dear readers! How are you all doing? How's quarantine? These are tough times-- so much uncertainty all around, isn't it? Here's a short piece to cheer you up-- well, I *hope* it gives you a modicum of happiness. I'll try to post more regularly now! Stay safe, stay healthy, stay inside with a bundle of blankets, a tower of books and twenty mugs of hot chocolate-- I'll put all of you in my prayers!
I stood behind the veil of white and pink roses and looked.
I couldn't tear my eyes away from her. She was beautiful-- to me she seemed like a goddess; silky dark brown hair swirled and rippled as she swept past the bower in which I was concealed. Her skin was a rich, healthy golden; there was none of the sickly pallor that I so often saw in girls from my village.
Moreover, her cheeks were a soft, barely noticeable pink; this subtle observation made her seem that much lovelier. A small smile played around her red lips as she stretched out her womanly, long-fingered hand to the sweet young birds that drank from the purple pool of ambrosia.
I wanted nothing more than to just stay and watch her for Eternity. Admire the way the breeze played with her dark tresses, marvel at her ladylike demeanour, listen to her silvery laughter...
I never saw a more paradisiacal sight in my life. 'Is it real?' I wondered. 'Is *she* real? Am I alive? Or am I in Eden?'
She whirled around and smiled. She could see me. She'd known all along that she was being scrutinized from behind the roses. Her smile was sad, tender, motherly, warm.
My heart ached. I wanted to reach out to her and hold her...
... but all I could do was stare at her as she faded away.
And now I am lost forever.
I'd like to express my gratitude to an immortal English Romanticist-- The One Whose Name was Writ in Water, late John Keats. An exceptionally skilled wordsmith and practically a magician. The supernatural femme fatale in his famous ballad, "La Belle Dame sans Merci", inspired this piece, and I tried to make it as aesthetically pleasing as possible. Thank you for reading!
I hope you liked it!
Cheerio! See you soon :)
I stood behind the veil of white and pink roses and looked.
I couldn't tear my eyes away from her. She was beautiful-- to me she seemed like a goddess; silky dark brown hair swirled and rippled as she swept past the bower in which I was concealed. Her skin was a rich, healthy golden; there was none of the sickly pallor that I so often saw in girls from my village.
Moreover, her cheeks were a soft, barely noticeable pink; this subtle observation made her seem that much lovelier. A small smile played around her red lips as she stretched out her womanly, long-fingered hand to the sweet young birds that drank from the purple pool of ambrosia.
I wanted nothing more than to just stay and watch her for Eternity. Admire the way the breeze played with her dark tresses, marvel at her ladylike demeanour, listen to her silvery laughter...
I never saw a more paradisiacal sight in my life. 'Is it real?' I wondered. 'Is *she* real? Am I alive? Or am I in Eden?'
She whirled around and smiled. She could see me. She'd known all along that she was being scrutinized from behind the roses. Her smile was sad, tender, motherly, warm.
My heart ached. I wanted to reach out to her and hold her...
... but all I could do was stare at her as she faded away.
And now I am lost forever.
I'd like to express my gratitude to an immortal English Romanticist-- The One Whose Name was Writ in Water, late John Keats. An exceptionally skilled wordsmith and practically a magician. The supernatural femme fatale in his famous ballad, "La Belle Dame sans Merci", inspired this piece, and I tried to make it as aesthetically pleasing as possible. Thank you for reading!
I hope you liked it!
Cheerio! See you soon :)
This is so well written, I love your way of describing people
ReplyDeleteThank you so much!! I appreciate it ☺
ReplyDelete