He saw her at the bar,
Commanding her space.
It wasn’t just the bourbon he witnessed
The bartender pour in her glass…
Neat.
Nor was it the pack of cigarettes,
In its place on the bar…
Keeping her company,
That captured his attention,
And imagination.
To look at her painted a picture of
Eclectic,
Amused,
Power…
Totally in control of
Her moment.
Every garment she wore,
Individually, shouted dissonance,
But together
Spoke softly of artistry,
And incredibly thoughtful
Combination of pattern,
And texture,
And a purposeful palette of bohemian color.
The waves of her tawny hair
Reminded him of swirls of
Smoke…
Incense rising…
Cascading layer on layer.
Her eyes were bright,
Purposeful,
Challenging….
And engaging.
And in that moment,
He sensed that speaking to this
Beautiful woman was fraught,
With intrigue…
And peril.
She probably didn’t give a damn
About
What others thought of her.
Let them judge themselves…
Not her.
She needed neither
Social media,
Nor self-help books
To live her life.
All she needed was respect,
And freedom to live.
Creative…
Unique…
Sexy…and
Edgy.
© 2017 W. C. Stacia, Jr.
