She walks towards me with her easy stride.
The myriad small pleats of her brilliant white dress undulate softly, hinting at the movements of her body beneath.
Her hair, an unruly mop of burnished copper, falls around her face, flaring in the dappled sunlight, a nimbus around the head of the angel she is.
My heart pounds as she sees me and her quick, smile speaks to me across the narrowing gap between us. The grey-green eyes under arching brows, wide with their frank, open gaze, drown me again in their still deeps as I return her light quick embrace. The rose-velvet of her lips brushes my cheek while my own lips seek the down of her peach flesh. A quick touch of her body against mine, the woman of her in my nostrils as her hair flows over my face and I am lanced through, seared to the core.
Once again am lost, undone, stammering like a schoolboy as we turn and walk together through the gate.
Dao Jones
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