A Waste of Time.

Running across the field, her dark green silk scarf and strawberry blonde hair billowing behind her, she slows down and comes to a halt in the centre of the long grass.

Turning her head and scanning the tree line,  it seems like she's looking for something or someone. He watches her. She can't see him from here. He stares intently at her pale freckled face. Does she know he's here? 

He can see her a little clearer every time. Her hazel eyes and tiny pert nose. Her small mouth with full ripe lips. Her hair falling about her shoulders, the wind clinging the light scarf to her petite frame.

Each night she haunts him. He covets her. He wants to touch her, to graze his finger tips over those little hairs under her navel. He wants to smell her hair. He wants to make love to her.

He could never, how would he? She was not real.

The End

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