The long braid down her back,
The ribbon weaving through its seams,
The way it shimmered in the spotlight.
The second thing he noticed were her hands;
At her side, clenched, they trembled in
Fright
But there was something strong in them that
He could not place,
A delicate grace that
Spoke of power.
The third thing he noticed were her eyes;
Wide and blue and boundless,
Tied down by nothing but
The weight of her skin and bones,
Sparking and shimmering and calling;
Calling his name,
Calling the name of things
He did not know even existed.
The last thing he noticed was her voice;
A voice that could barely be contained by
Wo r ds or l e t t e r s,
A melody of everything that he knew
And everything he did not.
It grew up from her body, from her spirit,
Mixing with the orange light cast from above,
Curling around his shoulders and chest and throat;
A beckoning that everyone could only describe as
Magic.
And as the girl sang on,
And her hands unclenched,
And the braid down her back waved with the soul in her voice,
And her eyes called, and called, and called,
He found that
Just for a second
For one moment
For one memory
The world stopped
The world exploded
And all that was left was this
Girl
And the words
And the light
And his name, just his name
On her lips
Sung in something
That nothing else
Could ever
Even
Begin
To
T o u c h
Oh, and 