A vision of loveliness beheld my sight, grasped my attention one drunken night. Amid a garden of thorns there flowered a rose, a beauty in bloom where one rarely grows. There amongst the tainted, one who was pure, my capture was certain for she was the lure. An enchantress she was, but not by design, from the moment I saw her I wished she were mine. Possessed by her presence, lost in her eyes, entranced at a glance, there was my demise. For I was struck by a single look, caged by her smile mere seconds it took. Mere minutes passed like hours, engrossed by her gaze, and when she looked away my heart was ablaze. So it seemed I was deemed to watch from afar, amid a sea of darkness was my own shining star. But suddenly she was there, through my alcoholic blur, as though she would melt by the strength of my stare; So shy, unassuming, she told me her name, and I was drawn to her light, like a moth to a flame. To find the right words, to say the right things, I fought through the haze that alcohol brings. We spoke of our lives and sat but for a while, and all I remember was her eyes, her smile. And then she was gone, as soon as she came, she left me her memory, her number, her name, On a scrap of paper. She left like a mist, amid a hurried good-bye and a stolen kiss. |