I sat idly waiting, watching her through her bedroom window. She indeed was the one,* and how happy she would be when I told her she would be my first. Coming down the steps and walking out the door I watched her still, anxious for the moment to come when I would hold her in my arms. It was snowing out; the contrast of her dark skin against the white snow, a mere smudge she would have seemed if not for the golden glow that surrounded her, it made me to recall a single chrysanthemum struggling in a field of snow. I closed my eyes imagining the taste of her, wondering if she would have the scent of a flower, or if she would smell of fear when I took her, sliding myself into her gently -never brusquely- but in a way that would supersede even her *if only for a moment.