Just another morning
There she was,forever beautiful,and -that is the scary part- perfectly aware of her beauty. She did it on purpose,just as a game,you could easily tell she enjoyed it utterly if you weren't busy with the paper,the magazine,the book or all the worries that whirled in your head. But you,despite all of that,noticed her,those brown eyes,as bright as the full moon,as big as peaches,staring at you. The twin stars of Laeda,right there,looking at you.
Your paper trembles in your hand,the mortgage,getting your sons to college,all fades away from your demi-bald head as she smiles with a red,red mouth.
Everything in her speaks,the perfume,the pristine dress with the blue sweater,the black shoes and the look just choking you,making you sweat. The paper is shaking as you seem to have just acquired Parkinson's disease.
With your body turned into lead you want to walk towards her,and as secure a bee would feel under the rain you want to ask her for whatever,the time,if this Metro takes you to The Peoples Republic of China but you don't,you submerge in your trembling printed news,and your head goes back to the mortgage and the endless bills as her smile fades and her eyes fix on some other bold head and a little book starts to tremble nervously. She enjoys it,you can tell.