She Walks.

She walks away, from, and to. In all her fineness and beauty. A slender entity, wearing her elegance in words. Reciting rhapsodies of love and dreams. Of passion. In all her fineness and beauty, she walks wearing her elegance in being. In steps. She walks away, from, and to.

A slow paced saunter in the breeze of a young night, alone and happy. Recalling the events of the day that has so hurriedly left. The days that have so hastily gone by. She recalls. She smiles. She walks.

A first kiss. An unforeseen smile. A pleasant stranger. The disclosure of an inquisitive thought. And the breeze of a young night. Alone and happy. She recalls. She smiles. She walks.

A prowl in the numbing cold of an endless tiring night.  Alone and sad. In hopelessness, she searches for the times that have gone by. If they were deathless they would have made her promises to stay.

She recalls. She grieves. She walks.

A first kiss. An unforeseen smile. A pleasant stranger. The disclosure of an inquisitive thought. The solitude of a girl in search of what was once and is now no more. And the numbing cold of an endless lonely night. Alone, in overwhelming distress, she recalls. She grieves. She walks.

And she walks away, from, and to. In all her fineness and what is left of her. The living remains of worn-out allure. She walks away, from, and to. A slender entity, wearing her elegance in words and being. In steps. She walks away, from, and to.