She's standing there among the leaves,
Quieter than the sounds of snow
Falling gently upon the ground.
She is something I desire
With that sweet tilting of her hips
And those promises known as lips.
But she seems to innocent for that,
So heedless of my watching eyes
So frail that even I could cry.
Tendrils of onyx tinted hair
Swirl around an opal cheekbone,
And rest gently upon her chest.
To twine my fingers in her curls
Would make all this waiting worth it,
But I know if I touched her skin
She would melt into the cool wood,
Vanish amongst the misting rain,
Torment me by disappearing.
Long fingers twisting like grape vines
A narrow nose turns up to meet
The sparkling teardrops called rain.
She welcomes Mother Earth's sorrow
While most others push it away;
I don't want to corrupt her gift.
I can just imagine her voice
Soft and slick like a winter seal,
Taught with mischief and heartfelt lies.
She is something that I will see
But better strangely never touch.
Though I wish I could hold her close.
She twirls her arms high in the air
Spinning round and round in the rain
Cleaning off filth, taking in pain.
Eye color that I cannot see,
But sweet rose petal lips I want,
She is shimmering like the fog.
Among the willow trees she lives
Damp, but happy in her prison;
She only wants the things she has.
I sit and want more than I should
While she is content to exist
Her happiness will outlast mine.
The only thing to make her cry
Would most likely be the demise
Of her love, life, and home, the tree.
It gives her shelter and sweet dreams
While to me it's only kindling.
She would never ever want me.
Long legs Tantalizingly clean
Parted thighs overwhelming me,
I should look away but I can't.
It is more than just the dark lust
It is all her untouched beauty
The part of her that is not scared
Or ashamed to dance in the rain,
Run naked through the cold droplets
While people like me are watching.
Toes dusted with dirt and grasses
Palms scented with moss and tree sap
Eyelashes catching spider webs.
She bathes in the water from leaves
Wringing out her hair with branches
While behind her the rain falls sheer.
It is a solid mass of gray
Stark against her vitality
She puts her face up to the rain.
I watch as she parts her dark hair,
See as she notices the wind
Brace myself as the storm lets up.
She shakes the water from her hair
But my eyes don't go to her chest
They rest upon her face and wrists.
She raises up her arms again
As her nose points up to the sky
Wrists crossed and fingers splayed up high
I see the shape of her laughter
As the final drops fall away.
Right as the rain finally stops
She begins to fade into dust
Crumbling away with decay,
Not painfully, but naturally.
I stare at her until the end
Knowing I won't see her again.
But thanking her for the first time
That she allowed me to want her
And watch her dancing in the rain.