Her Beauty

Her beauty, like the rising sun, awakens me and arises me to each and every day. I open my eyes and in my mind, my head, I see her face. An angel fallen from heaven to be met by a lonely stranger, me. I see her and fall deep in a trance, thinking how gorgeous, how perfect. Is it possible, I wonder, for her to feel the same? Or is it just a dream that I will never feel in reality. But what difference is there between dream and reality, when her beauty is but a dream cast in a world of reality. And my dream, that dream I dream of her, is that by chance, and by fate, she will feel the same. But I know I am foolish to think that a fallen angel would feel that I, a peasant compared to her, would be worth her time. And she is right. I am not worth her time, for she deserves a man of good looks and that is not me. I still dream about her lovely face meeting mine with a single kiss, but yet, it is only a dream. A dream I will not feel.

3 months ago  /  0 notes