She had a champagne smile, delicate, soft, full of citrus sweetness. Her hair was long and golden and glistened as she walked barefoot on the the grass. She had a butterfly beauty about her; drifting from place to place and pausing here or there to drink from a flower or to shake the yellow pollen from her wings. I chased her with the blissful abandon of a boy wanting nothing more than to briefly apprehend her, to contemplate her mystery and temporarily still her wandering heart.
In her eyes, which always seemed to smile, something twinkled invitingly. When she spoke to me I couldn't help but feel I was the only person in the room. I drank in her liquid laughter like a carbonated lilac dream. I got drunk on her, like an ant in honey. I got stuck on her.
...like an ant in honey.
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