She was like watercolor.
Her bright smile would last for a second,
Lingering in my memory like that of a kiss,
Until it slipped through my fingers.
I remembered mornings with that smile
That glowed as she woke
With �curved crescents under her eyes.
Her blue dress would dance around her ankles
Like the petals of a delicate aster,
Until it slid past my fingertips.
Into a slowly fading scene,
Her sweet perfume departed from my senses,
And the soft fabric of her dress turned to coarse sand.
Her laughter would dwindle off
As if she were nearing the finale of a symphony,
And the last notes rolled from my fingers.
It was like the bubble of champagne,
Making me shiver as if under a lover's touch
That I yearned and begged for more of.
She was like watercolor.
She slipped through my fingers in a bright stream of colors.
Just like watercolor.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.