I watch her every day, as she stands by the side of the road, long hair whipping about her face. I find the color fascinating...a sort of golden auburn, silky and shining with sun-kissed tints. Her movements, light and free, as she crosses the ground. Strong, yet slender legs moving with a steady grace. I cannot see her eyes, but I know them to be beautiful...everything else about her is. The cotton skirt flutters, and a flash of pale thigh greets my eyes, until she passes me by. I sigh, and ache.
I saw her again today, fair and sweet. Clad in jeans of softest blue, neatly pressed, and most complimentary to her form. Her form...that wonderous thing that grounds this angel to the cold earth. And a buttoned-down shirt, of pale rose...they say redheads cannot wear pink, but her very existence puts that theory to rest. She is not a true redhead though...the golden highlights change her appearance every moment. She flicks her hair over her shoulder, and walks past me, as I remain silent and still. Oh goddess...her scent washes over me. I do not know if it is a perfume, or her own essence that seeps from her warm body, but I weaken, and shiver. She intoxicates me.
Heavens be praised. She spoke to me. A calm, steady voice, as sweet and earnest as the face that goes with it, with just the slightest lilt. I could hardly contain my countenance...it was exciting beyond measure. And her eyes...green hardly describes them. The green of spring, of youth...she is the essense of nature. Her eyes stab me with their honesty, with her gentle manners. She is so beautiful...I feel certain I am unworthy of this earth-bound goddess. And a goddess she is, even by name...Diana. Goddess of the moon.
I am in love. She has spoken to me many times, and has confided in me that I am considered, of all things, a “friend”. An innocuous title, to be sure, but it carries with it hope, chance...promise. Before she slipped off, lithe and graceful, she touched me, clasped my hand in hers all too briefly, and slew me with a smile. My burning hand weakly returned the gesture, and I had the privilege of watching the slender figure weave through the grass. My head still swims...I can scarce see straight. It is time.
The most glorious day of my life. I was sitting with her, ‘neath the bank of a birch tree (and I need hardly add she appeared the very image of a wood nymph in such surroundings), when the topic of discussion somehow turned to romance. I must hasten to add I did not broach the subject...it came on so casually, I hardly was aware of it. She inquired if I had ever kissed a girl, and, blushing, I replied in the negative. Her eyes, her lovely quiet eyes, gazed at me for some time, and then the moment. Soft lips caressed my own, and for awhile I was quite lost, and most content to never be found. With a flick of the tongue, she released me from heaven, and rested her head on my chest in contentment, saying those three immortal words.
“Neither had I.”