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Her Eyes Spoke Poetry
In the vision, I held her close.
Falling in love at first sight is something shot straight out of the movies, isn’t it? It’s easy to chalk love up to a mess of synapses firing from some inborn need to keep the genetic line running. Anything else was nonsense — or so I used to think.
Meeting her changed all that.
If you met her, you might overlook her at first. She has an air about her that makes you think she’d be the perfect spy for how easily she melts away into a crowd. But standing on her own, her head tilted up to look through the branches of a blossoming tree, she’s a vision all unto her own.
In the park, I was just minding my own business as I scanned through the headlines of a newspaper (yes, no digital copy for me). I tsked at the diatribe: this politician was battling against that politician, there were warnings of a nuclear war brewing overseas, and a famous movie star had drowned in her own swimming pool after a potential drug overdose.
When I snapped the newspaper shut, my eyes lifted to see a young woman staring up as she stood beneath a tree. Then she glanced my way — my heart stuttered as our eyes met — and offered a small smile as if she had been caught doing something wrong.
