Shorties: Number 55

Across the Room

I saw you there with eyes looking down.  Such lovely cheeks and a narrow chin, I found you quite unforgettable. Your full lashes grabbed my attention.  They called to me, drew me in.  Even in the poor lighting, I could see they were not fake. I knew in an instant you were real.  You were a genuine soul. You could not be one insincere.  There are too many counterfeits, reproductions and imitators in this world.  Are your truly what I see and believe?   

With downcast gaze, you pondered the screen of your phone.  Was it your sweetheart sending notes of love?  No, were they amorous verses you read, I would have seen their reflection.  Your countenance gave not the appearance of romance.  It was pensive.  What could knit your brow so?  

Peering at you as I ponder the incalculable, I consider my own face.  Compared to your winsome beauty, I must appear one who would scowl or frown?  I pray I never cause you to wince?  Your eyes lift and lock with mine and I must dart away while a thrill sweeps over me.  Thought I you beautiful before, I now realize the folly of my previous estimation. You are far beyond my ability to compute.  

I steal another glance and you have returned to your phone.  Slowly, gradually, words form in my mind.  Actually, a singular designation lifts above all.  Lovely.  You are lovely.  A beacon of hope to one lost at sea.  A shining goddess, a pillar of charming, alluring heavenliness.  Surely, this is what grabbed me prior to my spirit’s recognition of your presence.  a

Alas, you rise and gather your possessions.  Before you take a step toward the door I feel your warmth retreat from the room.  Yet you extend a parting trinket.  Your eyes meet mine and your lips create a sultry smile.  Oh dear angel, your dulcet spirit, and sweet gift are warmly received.  Such treasures illuminate my tenor and charge my atmosphere.