enigma.

I have a friend, sweet, soft and kind. Yet prickly as a porkupine and holds you at bay while
drawing you in. Irresistible as fine chocolate yet is not to be tasted. The perfect frustration of nature,
she is the fair beauty in a high tower beckoning to come all the while knowing the face to sheer to climb.
The most beautiful rose that pricks the hand, is like Juliet holding all at bay.
I sense the only enigma is that of if she actually loves or only gives the fleeting glimpse.
like a riddle that can never be solved or a rhyme not to be deciphered ,I suppose the irritation is just for I suppose neither am I,Tis pity I suppose that that she passes but my way knowing that the glimpse I get is sufficient for my station.

Above me I suppose she is, as I wonder in disbelief I suppose also she is an addiction, perchance a compulsion of sorts that she is amused at seeing.

I admit I am just foolish to try and figure it out; a mason and a workman’s brain are all I will ever flout. Hers is an enigma worthy of Pliny or Plato too I am neither so I will content myself in the belief that she is a wonder of creations finest, that I will have to wait to understand.
Be it not in this life but the next.