May 29, 2014
It wasn't the curve of her hips. It wasn't the
freckles sprinkling her nose and shoulders. Nor the twist of her lips
when something amused her, always a light laughter dancing within her
mouth... Or the strong nose that often wrinkled when she made a face,
attempting to elicit a laugh from those around her, if at least a
smile...
But it was the
light in her eyes, at once that had been so vibrant in her youth,
actively trying to break free from its blue prison. Within the
reflection of her eyes...that's where she rested. Over the years the
light had subdued, resting dormant and content like a sleeping lion.
Through the facade of the wit, no one observed the woman. Sensual and
succulent and passionate.
A sleeping lion is no less passionate than a waking lion.
But beware the man who arouses the lionness...
~ A
© 2014 Angela Darling, All Rights Reserved.
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