It was so easy to get lost in her. He focused on her from afar, her hand dancing over the paper such as the willow in the wind. My filthy hand is unworthy of her, for she is Aphrodite and I am a mere worshiper. He looked up once more, but she had vanished in an instant, leaving her pens and blankets under the shade of the big tree.

“It’s rather rude to stare”

He whipped around, her skin was so close he could see the small marks that lead across her nose. His face grew hot, she did not waver. Her eyes, green as a grass field speckled with golden grain, stared deeply into his.

“I apologize miss, I am not to normally be so rude, however I am bewitched by the beauty before me”

She giggled “and for who is the hand to who speaks so highly of me?”

“Oh!” he bowed,”James, I tend to the garden of Mr. Austen”

“The garden, such a heaven on earth isn’t it?”

She began to walk toward the large overgrowth of green and James followed swiftly behind. Her dress’ green fabric fanned behind her like a leaf on the most beautiful flower on a cheery spring day. She was lovely and light, swift with each of her steps. She crouc

hed down to look at a small wilting daisy, hidden under the tall beautiful ones. He watched her as she tended to the small flower.

“Isn’t it upsetting?” She asked unwavering her care,” for all the others grow so quickly, so beautifully, but far too fast. Yet the flower that savors each stage is seen as weak, and cut from the patch.”

Her words flooded his heart. They were like thick and rich cream to be made into a delicious cake.

“Sorry,” she said,” I get far too in my own mind”

“No it’s wonderful,beautiful”

She stood up and met my gaze. He became lost in her presence. James pushed away the chestnut hair which covered her face. She lifted her hand, soft and light, to touch the scruff side of his cheek. Her lips the color of roses in the sun against her porcelain skin, James allowed myself to get closer to her as their eyes felt locked on each other’s, and her cheeks blushed a light pink. We leaned in—

“Amelia! Miss. Amelia where have you gone to? Amelia Austen you are late for your piano lesson!!”

She pulled away hastily, breaking my trance.

“I’m so sorry!” She exasperated already running out the door, her green dress now a tree in a storm, “I must go! It was lovely to see you.  Meet me here tomorrow evening!!”

A moment whisked away. I stood in shock. Amelia.