Enough for me that you are beautiful:
Beauty possessed diminishes.
Better a dream of love
Than love’s dream broken;
Better a look exchanged
Than love’s word spoken.
Enough for me that you walk past,
A firefly flashing in the dark.
– Ruskin Bond
A beautiful young flower swayed joyfully in the fresh, subtle, morning breeze. It rained last night and the flowers and the leaves were drenched with dew, reminds one of a damsel, out of a steamy hot bath in a foggy winter morning, with her wet hair hanging loose and her fresh radiant skin glowing softly like the morning sun. The freshness, the young flower carried, was beautiful and indescribable. It looked young, innocent, simple, untouched, unspoiled, which instills in one a sweet feeling of love.
In order to possess it, have it for oneself…. one breaks it; one tries to feel its softness and the purity of life it once radiated. But, one fails. All one was in love with, left the flower, the moment when one removed it, plucked it, from its environs. One could have let it be there and enjoyed the beauty of it every day. One could have let it remain untouched, but, now it no longer looks the same, it no longer looks soft, fresh, simple or untouched.
All one does now is keep it as a memory, reminding one of a sweet feeling called love, which was felt once but is now being preserved as a dead body, between the pages of a chapter describing….Love.