Her honey-colored hair reminded him of the late afternoon sun when he had first seen her. She was standing at the lakeshore looking across, as if searching for something or someone. He had often caught glimpses of her in the long shadows, always looking out at the water. She was a visitor, not a local, he was sure of that. He found himself timing his schedule to coincide with her afternoon walks just so he could see her again. His interest in her was almost becoming an obsession.
Attracted to the mystery surrounding her he felt those old familiar urges stirring in his body. Resurfacing from that dark, cold place he had vacated long ago. It frightened him. He could still hear his therapist’s voice in his head, “Remember Robert, for beauty is nothing but the beginning of terror, for the other person
Walking in late afternoon shadows I see the Sun’s golden rays shooting arrows through heavily laden boughs of lush green foliage Streaking Laser beams Piercing the forest floor Spanish moss hanging in dreadlocks on ancient oaks mysterious and beckoning The light and dark playing tricks with the eyes as I am lured by the beauty Exquisite Stunning in its glimmering glory
Linda from Charmed Chaos is hosting D'Verse Poets tonight and has prompted us with Flowers. She asked us to write a poem as if we were the flower. I was inspired by the beauty of Calla Lillies and their simplicity.