Secret Admirer

There she stood besides the tall trees
There was hustling of leaves with a small breeze
I was watching her from a distant path
Careful enough to hide, so that no one sees

I was a secret admirer, an amateur poet
There was nothing which my lips uttered on a glance of hers but a sonnet
Life can be blissful with her presence
Without her, I was a diamond without a facet

As she walked across the hill
I watched her, keeping absolutely still
My eyes lost the movement, my lips mumbled smatterings
But I sweated even in a Nordic chill

I love watching her hair play with her
With the slightest breeze they shift places annoying her
Still she holds them straight and smiles at all
Like a fairy she vanishes in the deep forests of fir