Last night i fell in love. She appeared out of a mist it seems. A sleek narrow necked princess with pink flowers in her hair. I stared. She stared. I was instantly smitten, moonstruck, head over Simples. And what seemed so unusual was that she didn't seem to mind my steady gaze. And i, the shy Hobo, usually speechless around beautiful women, was remarkably captivated, gone gaga, became mad about and sweet upon this flower-laden goddess. That ruinator, self consciousness, did not raise it's scene stealing head and wreck the moment. Let me explain further. She's obviously no ordinary lady. First, her lips were pursed in an endless kiss and red as rubies. Never have i had to restrain myself so, the urges to paste kisses not only on that bright red rose bud, but up and down her sensuous neck as well. Her curving eyes seemed just slightly oriental, which contributed successfully to a roundish face that protruded forth in a pearlescent glow. Those were the eyes of a queen, possibly in hiding, looking for a new life, possibly one with the common people. She was utterly calm, obviously enlightened. This being, young as she was, had obviously been to the wise mountain and returned to spread her bliss among us mortal monkeys. Endless flowers and tendrils festooned her jet black, snakey locks, a mass of noodley epidermal curls that tressed about her little chewable ears and went oddly down around her neck, like spindly tattoos that eventually morphed into her similarly colored dress. A closer look revealed that the henna colored vinage rising upon her neck did indeed match perfectly with the multilayered lines on her dress. And the flowers in her hair were the exact same color as those inhabiting that luscious garment. And the strange thing is, that i, being of monogamous nature, and having already spent a lifetime loving, being loved, then having lost love, then loving again, only to lose it yet again for the last time, am not inclined in the least to be out and about searching for more heartache of the female kind. And yet this somehow all felt very different. Wheels began turning inside where no wheels had turned before. Unremembered sensations abounded. Distinctly so in the lower regions of my body. Here was a woman whom i could fantasize fantasies about. Holding hands as we strolled through some far away dusty third world city. Chasing each other down long sunny beaches. Snuggling in heaps of down comforters as the snow blew in over the night. Even that one especially personal vision, of a sparkling sunset, surely in my future but strangely of a distant past. This person could fit nicely there, by my side, quiet and wondering, as i too would be, thinking, so, this REALLY IS the end. Without words. Those lips still pinched in that eternal kiss. Eyes nearly asleep. I carried her home and gently lay her on the soft rug near my bed. Now and again glancing over, confident that yes, this is the one. My own speechless beauty. One that i can finally live with, dream about and travel to the end of my days with. Thank you Ana Juan. Your painting is out of this world beautiful. HOBO (see her photo on my Flickr site above!)