Around the new years, when I was beginning to think that beauty was something we invented to survive as a species, a young woman crept up on me without warning and taped this poem to a hole in my sleeve. I wasn't able to get her name, but I think I will recognize her if I see her again, by the way she smiles.
Her eyes are clear like crystal,
Her brows are straight and true,
Her lips are as full as the summer moon,
and as soft as the summer dew.
She wears a shirt of satin,
and a jacket of dark green,
and she walks beneath the shadowed trees
wherever a star is seen.
I dreamt that I walked with her,
and she whispered words to me,
words of love and longing,
of faith and loyalty.
I woke then and I wept then,
that she was not in my arms,
but still I know she walks alone,
in my dreams and in my heart.
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