Walking Beauty

She walked down the stone Pavement, in that alluring Feminine walk that often Sends a man’s mind drifting. And as she walked, I watched, Drinking in her astounding Beauty, from fair breasts, to Creamy skin, to flowing hair. Her dress was modern, the Dress worn by those who know Exactly how they look, and So flaunt it through clothes. Here I noticed the embroidery Of the current name brands, Signifying her taste, and her Undoubted purse size. And from my shadowed bench, I held her within my thoughts. She knew nothing of me, and Would possibly care little to. If I or she were to pass away Later that night, either of us Would mourn for the other, For nothing was between us. From here, I began to question If she had ever thought of it All. Of life, and death. Or if She just lived for the moment. And if she dreads old age, for It will cause her beauty to wilt And fade into her pleasureful Past, only memories to remain. Will she then live in her past Memories, always holding on To what she can never have Again, till she meets her death? Is her past, her life? As she Stares hatefully into the Reminiscing mirror, as tears Fall from once silken skin. I began to wonder if our youth Is what our life desires. As We slowly decay in life, why Do we desire to be young again. And if this woman now, is Living life to all her youthful Desires, visiting men who her Beauty pleases and likewise. A comfort to her mind, and Life, as she lives within her Moment, her youth, her life. In a breath, she turns the corner. And in that breath of smoke, I Exhale. A life, passed before Me, the rest of her life and her Mere existence, to me, faded Never to be known Written April 10th, 2002 © on Apr 10 2002 03:09 AM PST   0 • 9