The Glass Menagerie

She was ethereal in her beauty. I always loved her of course. But only from a respectful distance. She collected glass animal's. I always gave her one for birthdays. She would kiss my cheek in thanks. Not the kiss I craved but a kiss. Her perfect French braids framing her lovely face. I fantasized unfastening them Slowly so her hair flowed Like the soft spring rain washing my bare skin. She would show me the Intricate color mix in her glass menagerie. But I only saw the colors of her hair her eyes her lips. When the sickness came Her skin became taught and translucent like glass. The weight loss showing her frame She looked more and more like one of her beloved glass collection. Then when we lost her She left her collection to me. But the one I wanted Was on a high shelf Beyond the clouds Far beyond my reach.