I watched her, where she sat across the room and her hair fell soft across uncovered shoulders and her briefest glance t'ward me, yet seemed to smolder (or I imagined so.) A brief blush bloomed - touched her cheek. Her slightest move consumed my whole attention. I could only hold her in fantasy, in dreams. I never told her. For I can recognize a love that's doomed.
And she walked with a dancer's careless grace. Her smile was light - was dawn after long darkness. Her voice was music - smoky midnight jazz. And I could lose myself in that sweet face. And nothing aches - no nothing's poignant as . . . knowing our forever is . . .apartness.