Sleeping in the hands of a lovely maiden, a fallen flower reminded me of the tenderness between beauty and a quiet death.
The words hiding in a poet's heart are eventually born upon paper, only to be revealed before the reader's eyes, as he/she gets a glimpse of the jewels in the crown of his emotions.
The soft lips of the wind kissed my face with kindness as I viewed the image of this beautiful maiden returning my gaze with a smile.
The vocabulary between us was wordless, but the echo in our hearts was filled with romantic thoughts illuminating the night.
Sitting by a graceful rivulet, I could feel the beauty of her spirit piercing my heart with the feminine sweetness of a lonely woman.
Even though her eyes were wet with tears from the demise of an unfortunate flower, they also welcomed me to join her in this moment of human compassion.
She knew she would find words of comfort and love in a poet's heart, after he had written them with a trembling hand for lonely hearts to read.
*Modified image by ~ John William Waterhouse, wikipaintings.org