Fleeting Girl: Passing Eyes to Remember



Crumbling under the weight of her eyes they melted me down before I could stand.  Eyes that managed to capture you while walking, glue you to a halt while daydreaming, forcing you to think of her, nothing but her, your attention all hers.  I tried to walk to her and speak but what came out was barely English, I hoped she would think I was a foreigner, that I would give myself an exotic appeal, and then I thought better. I quip back my hair and became bashful and modest, unable to remove my eyes from hers.  How on Earth could such eyes exist?  Tinted black around the edges, framed colours that were ever changing while I gazed.  They were the riches of eyes, the gold, the diamonds, the precious metals that have long expired, they were unique, incomparable, captivating, mesmerizing and I hadn’t even spoke my name.    “Enchante”, the only line I could think of to follow through with my clumsy introduction, she smiled and I croaked, falling victim to my own nervousness, feeling my throat tighten, my palms sweat, the heat pulsing out of my chest.  For once this was beyond sexual, a fascination beyond a night’s dream.   They lay inside such a beautiful face, lines and wrinkles in all the right places, crafted by an artisan of God.   I wondered if the words she spoke would be as divine.   Letting my thoughts spiral I walked away before she could reply.  She would be better as a dream, dreams are rarer than reality and in this point in my life, I didn’t want to believe there wasn’t something rare in the world.    I looked back and she sighed, she would understand if she knew.  Some things are better left to be sought than captured, and I, I just wasn’t ready to capture.



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