She held a beauty that was unnecessary. That is to say, she had more than enough beauty to divide into twenty lifetimes. In her it was all bottled up.
Some claim injustice–for her fellow maidens to gaze upon her and be reminded of whom they are not, and for the myriads of men who carry an admiration only to be matched in their dreams.
But for the man who claims her heart, it is divine.
Is she real? Does she exist? I have not seen her or known her, not in my consciousness.
Yet I cannot wait for the time when we shall meet again.