That Woman

I just stood, walking around her, all around her, checking the angles. I didn’t need to touch her; she was a work of art. She was all for the eyes, to go beyond that would just shatter the illusion. Oh, her black leather jacket and long brown hair, her NY T-shirt, her black Wellington boots and jeans that highlighted her beautiful figure, and her porcelain white skin and delicate features.

Yes, to know how she moved, what she smelled of, even the taste of her, well, that would have been great too, but she was priceless, surely more stunning to simply observe.