Tenderly lovely like a rosebud, her smile was like the blossoms opening up to receive the first rays of sunlight. She had a pixie charm; curly locks, alabaster skin, rosy lips and wide, innocent eyes which could transform from limpid pools of deep pathos to twinkling stars of mischief. Everyone knew she was a girl who had yet to see and experience the world and its wonders and disappointments.
Then the retrogression started once she attained her twenties.
The disillusionments of life overcame her. Her parents divorced when she passed out from college, her brother was struck with a terminal disease and she was soon on the lookout for a job to sustain her broken family.
And then the final blow came in the form of a man whom she fell in love with. He bestowed kisses upon her, whispered sweet nothings into her ears and finally managed to steal her innocence.
Then he left her never to return. The lovely appearance faded slowly. There was no rosiness or charm in her looks anymore. There was no longer any coquetry and mischief in her behavior. She withdrew and withdrew into a shell. She just existed. The outer now hag-like form was all that remained of her.
People say sometimes you can spot her on lonely evenings taking a solitary walk in the forest hiding her face with a shawl and often gazing at the far away horizon or the dawning stars and moon.
I have never seen her but this is a story of the end of innocence, love and goodness in the world that I often rue over.