Red fingernails,

sharp contrast

to the pale skin

of hers

Her eyes were dark

and shaded by the brown near black

of her hair

Her smile felt

both

like the sweet joy of a child finally able to play

and the harshness of a winter,

used to long hours of work

beyond what one thought capable of

She leaned in

and the shadows iced her background

and that hair fell, fell, fell

She was nearly an enchantress

with the delicate unfolding of her body

she spoke with a siren's song

of a voice

She moved with the silky walk

of a spider

and her heart danced along

He felt his throat constrict

and savored the way she leaned in

as if suddenly she saw

the little things

about him too.