To the Crumbling Cliffs

It was an innocent look.
She caught it though and was intrigued.
"I feel warm and welcomed."
She must have thought.

There he was standing with authority and a handsome poise.
There she was, lanky and with a remarkable aura.
She was beautiful.
Like a gazelle.
Mia from Pulp Fiction, his mind offered.
He took the offer.

She came in, red hair shining from the sunshine.
Magnetic and with grace like a flower petal, floating in the air.
Spreading her fragrance in this dry, dull fare.
He was mesmerized.

Her heart did not let go.
She left and kept thinking about him.
How charming.
"I must go back." And she gulped down the wine.

hEr phone rang.
And she replied to the message.
With some veracity and a lot of velocity.
No ifs or buts. Only Yes and whens.
He longed for her .
With stars shining like fireflies in the dark nights of September, they met.
"What was he in for?"
Little did he know.

heR short red hair was wet.
It was pouring and she jumped in.
She said she sees the paintings and the sculpture in his eyes.
He said he sees her by his side.

She came back and inquired.
Her inquisitiveness was charming.
And disarming.
He could not take it and shook his head.
In defense of himself and his space.
Otherwise she thought and left, fluttered and disenchanted.

He reached for her in the haze of the night.
He felt her in the clear of the dawn.
She said she is moving up and he asked her to watch for the pigs.
She said, she will and smiled the most pretty smile, they thought.
He simply brushed it off as a lie.
" I can't be fooled," he thought, perched from the top of his crumbling cliff.

Now he can't see her.
Unexpected and with full grace, she comes in one day.
He looked into her eyes and her hair.
He saw no lies this time.
The truth still amazed him.
And he felt joy like he had not felt before.
She saw a lake she had not imagined before.
And quietly, they moved on.