List of Bookmarks
"I would like to hear one of your poems," she said after a pause, gaze fixed forward. It had not escaped his attention that her clothing was made of silk, embroidered with gorgeously bold flowers, and sleeves that were made even more sheer by the rain. She had walked straight out of a painting.
He wished he had drunk more alcohol.
So he told her a poem, one made up on the spot, of a woman so beautiful that she brought a kingdom to its knees, so lovely that a flower would weep at its own inadequacies in front of her. His eyes never left her face.
- Part 4 of yuncifangtober