The Voyeur.

She walks a little unsteadily, the girl in the red dress
The footsteps gracefully halting, as if unused to the weight
A swaying pensive gait, counterpoint in a minor key
She slowly approaches, quizzically, as if a vision
Silhouetted by the warm springtime sunshine
Peering into the cooler shadows inviting
Stepping in with a gust of warmer air
The leaves swirl on errant zephyrs as she enters
Circling in their little dance, almost adoration
Her graceful movements almost restrained
Like the tiny diamond in her ear
Like the sun-born highlights in her long dark hair
The heels click on the floor
Making her way almost cautiously drawn
Like a stealthy feline on midnight prowl, unsteady
She tilts her head slightly to the left
An apologetic expression of pleasure
Red lips caught between perfect teeth
For a moment she seems almost unsure
Caught in the moment between seconds
Like the thinker ready to spring into decision
The moment artistry strives so impossibly to capture
For that moment, one fleeting moment, she owns you
As your heart rages against encasing flesh
The sure beauty of the moment chiselled into memory
As she smiles and greets someone two tables over
‘Hello dear, I miss you’