Nymph

She's standing there among the leaves,

Quieter than the sounds of snow

Falling gently upon the ground.  

 

She is something I desire

With that sweet tilting of her hips

And those promises known as lips.  

 

But she seems to innocent for that,

So heedless of my watching eyes

So frail that even I could cry.

 

Tendrils of onyx tinted hair

Swirl around an opal cheekbone,

And rest gently upon her chest.  

 

To twine my fingers in her curls

Would make all this waiting worth it,

But I know if I touched her skin

 

She would melt into the cool wood,

Vanish amongst the misting rain,

Torment me by disappearing.  

 

Long fingers twisting like grape vines

A narrow nose turns up to meet

The sparkling teardrops called rain.  

 

She welcomes Mother Earth's sorrow

While most others push it away;

I don't want to corrupt her gift.  

 

I can just imagine her voice

Soft and slick like a winter seal,

Taught with mischief and heartfelt lies.  

 

She is something that I will see

But better strangely never touch.  

Though I wish I could hold her close.

 

She twirls her arms high in the air

Spinning round and round in the rain

Cleaning off filth, taking in pain.  

 

Eye color that I cannot see,

But sweet rose petal lips I want,

She is shimmering like the fog.  

 

Among the willow trees she lives

Damp, but happy in her prison;

She only wants the things she has.

 

I sit and want more than I should

While she is content to exist

Her happiness will outlast mine.  

 

The only thing to make her cry

Would most likely be the demise

Of her love, life, and home, the tree.  

 

It gives her shelter and sweet dreams

While to me it's only kindling.

She would never ever want me.  

 

Long legs Tantalizingly clean

Parted thighs overwhelming me,

I should look away but I can't.  

 

It is more than just the dark lust

It is all her untouched beauty

The part of her that is not scared

 

Or ashamed to dance in the rain,

Run naked through the cold droplets

While people like me are watching.  

 

Toes dusted with dirt and grasses

Palms scented with moss and tree sap

Eyelashes catching spider webs.

 

She bathes in the water from leaves

Wringing out her hair with branches

While behind her the rain falls sheer.  

 

It is a solid mass of gray

Stark against her vitality

She puts her face up to the rain.

 

I watch as she parts her dark hair,

See as she notices the wind

Brace myself as the storm lets up.

 

She shakes the water from her hair

But my eyes don't go to her chest

They rest upon her face and wrists.  

 

She raises up her arms again

As her nose points up  to the sky

Wrists crossed and fingers splayed up high

 

I see the shape of her laughter

As the final drops fall away.

Right as the rain finally stops 

 

She begins to fade into dust

Crumbling away with decay,

Not painfully, but naturally.

 

I stare at her until the end

Knowing I won't see her again.

But thanking her for the first time

That she allowed me to want her

And watch her dancing in the rain.  

 

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741