Her Nirvana

Week over, she rushes down the busy NY streets along with all the other nine-to-fivers. Shoulders to shoulders, becoming lost among briefcases and strangers in suits. The proper attire that's required for white-collared jobs. Restricted to society's ways to make ends meet.

She walks these same streets day in and day out. Her muse in check, inner self buckled down. A lie to herself that the world doesn't see. Close enough to no one who could call her by her governor name.

Entering her small home, not to resurface until Monday morning. Pulling the combs from her hair; auburn locks fall cascading to her waist. Locking up, she runs down the stairs and enters the basement. She glides to the secret door behind the left wall.

She enters her nirvana that's full of trinkets and charms. The smell of water tickles her nares as she steps out of her tailored pin-stripe suit. Inhaling, she swiftly dives into the fresh, cool, aqua-colored pond.

Long hair down to her waist, a waist that even the smallest man's hand could span, disappears into the water. Followed by her bright, shimmering, chromatic, seductive tail. Fins flickering she disappears into her paradise.

Tammy
8/18/05

prompt~Urban Fantasy~created for
"SLAM!"