She walked off the train:
An oriental doll wearing a short skirt, with cropped jet-black hair, and a determined expression;
Girl, you’re like a Manga Assassin walking off the comic book page;
Immaculate to look upon;
A jaw-dropping dragon tattoo along the entire length of one perfectly proportioned set of pins-
A coiled up serpent, disappearing beneath the fold of her skirt;
Leaving any man salivating for a full showing!
You make me forget my age for a moment,
Forget even that i’ve got a girl,
Returning me to a lust-struck teenager of yesteryear;
Throwing caution to the wind in abandonment,
Celebrating every success with glee-filled shuffle,
Taking all the put downs on the chin,
Living for the moment,
A far cry from recent creeping maturity!
However, as she walks off into the distance,
Being feverishly tailed by the memory of the boy that I was;
Forgetting the 9,999 reasons why he has no chance,
Naively hoping to make the luscious red lips of this object of affection, break out into a pearly white smile;
The man that I am, turns to the girl alongside (undoubtedly following the antics befalling within my line of sight with amusement):
‘Sweety, if I thought you had a chance… I’d let you’, she said with a mock sympathetic smile;
‘Easily’, I lied, ‘but, one dragon at home is enough’, I said while netting my fingers through hers,
‘You better believe it’, she replied, returning a squeeze of the hand;
And, my wife and I continued on our journey home.