Gold Dust

Gold Dust

She walks through time like a whisper, elusive to the years, as if the clock admires her with fascination and stands still in her presence.
Her skin bears the light of dawn, her figure a sculpture of softness and strength, noble as a royal signet ring, polished by life, not by wear.
In her eyes glitters fourteen carats of longing, a sparkle that doesn't blind but invites, for those who dare to look with their heart and find her like a grain of gold in the stream.
Rare, yes. Precious, certainly. But not unattainable. For she opens herself to those who see her value, not in possession, but in admiration.