Ring

She was the golden girl of her generation.

Her intelligence was deep, her beauty flawless, her skin perfect, her body stunning, her movement full of grace. She played guitar like a gypsy and piano like an angel.  She was peaches and cream and yet she was rock and roll.  Everyone wanted her or wanted to be her.

The first time I saw her she was gliding through a party and turning every head.  When her gaze rested upon me my whole world was turned utterly inside out and upside down.

What she saw in me I still wonder to this day.  I was a writer, a revolutionary, a dreamer, a child in the body of a man.  I was penniless, lost, a rebel who had failed his cause.  I had nothing to give except hunger, and the wide and restless pursuit of something undefined.

Yet she danced for me alone in the small hours of a magical night when the air was soft and the moonlight silvered her hair.  She gave herself completely, her body wrapping itself about me, her heart beating to the rhythm of my own.  We became lost in each other and we found each other.  I gave her all my dreams and she showed me a paradise on earth.

In the morning she left with a smile that made me dizzy with love.

She still wears my ring.

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