David.kraaijer

                              Ode to Victoria. The Original Muse. Thays.

The original muse, a melody one never finishes discovering, destined to last a thousand years. 

She is nothing but surprises, this unknown elegance of life. One sees only an infinity of nuances, losing words and thoughts in it; happy, all the same, to get to know her. 

Her giggle dares all mortals not to blush, an impossible task — one can only surrender. 

Always a mystery, a life’s sin of intrigue. 

Golden hair as waves of light, tiny freckles making that face radiant, and rosy cheeks smiling. Not a sound, not a thought when you look at her — the kind of presence that can only captivate. 

Her blue eyes shining, so sparkling. They'll stay forever young, they will never dim. No — it is light itself they emanate, reflections forever kind. 

She belongs to fleeting moments, a tragedy for the wary; all fun and games until we can't avoid the gaze, as gentle as it is impossible to ignore — then comes the laughter, and soon the sweetness of her madness.

She's like a shot of espresso. Better than a sunset, always a sunrise. 

It would be immoral to avoid her, as absurd as avoiding the sun — she could literally come from it. As she might be the next best thing. 

Her pouting, her most formidable weapon. She only has to frown and we know we cannot win; over the silliest argument we'd drown, while she mischievously smiles, mercilessly serene. 

Her charm is a remedy for us all, a Lightbringer — felt in the darkest winter storm, becoming nothing but gentle rain. 

Perhaps you radiate too much for this world and don't even know it — but rest assured, we are here, witnesses, all the way, to admire it. 

It isn’t always sunny, but it is when you’re there.