Elegance By: Tanya DeGray
Swiftly, and most delicately, Evelyn strolls through the proper British garden at the turn of the century. Her sweet and perfect chin rose oh so slightly and her eyes closed basking in the warmth of a summers day sun. Her angelic and slender hands are wrapped in lace gloves and her lean body warmed by the long silk gown that rippled and flowed behind as a flower that is whisped away by the gentle breeze. The gowns soft sleeves were held loosely at her shoulders and the mid-drift encased her bosom and flowed at her hips creating a beautiful bell more magnificent then the church’s majestic music creators.
Evelyn sits soundly on a bench in the golden garden, laughing gently as butterfly flutters near her pointed nose. The sun did smile down, though doused by the laced parasail held in the angelic hands of the angelic woman. The layers of gentle ripples of golden petals highlight the horizon of the sanctuary. Green bushes are trimmed to perfection, animating the once lifeless plant, and soft purple flowers decorate the snow-white arch which led to the center of the colorful land. Laughing couples stroll carelessly down the stony path lined with, the always elegant, white carnations. Evelyn thinks to herself what a lovely day it was and that it was only to get better as she was set to spend a splendid brunch with her friend’s in the patio in the garden.
And so her walk continued; a sweet aroma drew near with each inch she glided, the sweet scent filled her every breath and caressed her in a dream of clouds and white. Soon it came to pass that those most delicious scents were that of the pastries awaiting her in the fine brunch ahead. Evelyn is seated once again, speaking lightly and softly with her friends from her childhood, they laughed and contemplated on memories. The pastries were beyond describable word. The rich creamy sensation that glided across her fully flourished and colored lips and softly slid south. The moisture of each dessert was that of a dream, to her it seemed that she was indulging a cloud of the softest touch.
The day was drawing later and the friends muttered their last good-byes and floated away. Evelyn lingered just a smidge longer. The garden was a home to her and she did not bear to part with it. Her elegant eyes, sparkling blue in the setting sun, gazed over those golden petals, those purple flowers, those red roses, and those white carnations. She took in every scent of pure joy. The aroma’s that were of spring and nature and dew and the warmth of a warm summer’s day, she glided towards the exit of her beloved place, her white skin unblemished by the summer’s day, her eyes still wide with love and care, her hands still so angelic and pure, her dress still glowing with an aura of eccentric beauty. Her day in this endless vast of purity and magnificence has come to a sad ending but the day of fun and laughter never dies. Evelyn turns to leave still beautiful, still graceful, and still elegant.