Mysterious Brown-Eyed Girl
Walking through that door, that girl, with sugary brown hair, delineated with red, flowing effervescently behind her long, cute face, exhibiting her small, petite, nose, her beautiful, cat-like, chocolate brown eyes with batting lashes, and soft, pink lips smiling, displaying her small, white teeth, is the girl who has the key to my heart. This girl, mysterious and captivating, has no clue of my longing, my never-ending desire to be her man. This girl walks through the door, and everyone within the room turns, glances, stares, or drops their jaw, looking at this mysterious brown-eyed girl. The girl walks slowly into the room, her skirt gently blowing with the subtle breeze of her gait, her flip-flops gently clapping with the floor, her purse bobbing, and her necklace moving slightly with each step. The girl turns toward a group of people sitting on the floor in a circle, the group consisting of a guy surrounded by a few girls. Her face is confident, yet, nervous, and she continues to walk toward the group, her attention on the young man, still smiling, her eyelashes batting. The young girl reaches the group, gently sits down in a seat, crosses her legs, and places her purse on the table, and soft says, “Hey baby,” with her melodious, captivating voice. The boy turns, and looks at the girl, and replies, “Who are you talking to? Me?” The girl shifts in her chair, looks at the young man is disbelief, and wonders why he is pretending to not know who she is. The girl’s mind races, thoughts running through her mind, everything that had happened over the past 10 months flashing before her eyes, a tiny, crystalline tear forms under her eye, and the girl begins to weep. Each teardrop trickling down her soft, gentle face, her mascara beginning to run down her cheeks, and her heart beginning to pound hard, and faster, with each passing second; the boy stands up swiftly, and walks over to the crying girl. The young man, slightly short, with golden, cornflower hair, and light, opulent blue eyes, kneels down in front of the girl, takes her hand, which was resting in her lap, and embraces it. He takes his vacant hand and gently caresses the young girls face, wiping away the crystalline teardrops, the young woman looks deeply into his eyes, staring deep within his soul. The young man leans forward, moves his head toward hers, glances down at her soft, supple lips, and leans in for a kiss. The girl accepts, and moves forward, allowing her gentle lips to touch his. The young man looked, once more, into the young girl’s eyes, and whispered softly into her ear, “I’m sorry baby. I never meant to make you cry. I love you."