The misty smell of her hair and the dewiness of her skin,
Made him wonder now, where had she always been?
While everyone would talk and smile, laugh and play around,
With a yellowed book in her hands, on a bench she would be found,
Sometimes he would see her mutter something and smile,
He swore in that moment he would see the whole world shine,
Then there would be days she would sit quietly on the bench,
With nothing to read, her hands in the pockets of her trench,
And he would feel the skies turn dark, like her mood, somber and gray,
He would feel a chill then, which had nothing to do with a cold day.
Sometimes he would feel, she was looking at him, when he was running behind his dog,
The dog would be back in a moment and she would be smiling, hidden behind the bookish fog.
He felt himself fall for her, but fear had gripped his heart, for she was no ordinary woman,
On a dry dry day, when no one was around, he saw her bloom a rose, in the cold autumn.
It was a secret he knew she knew, he saw,
But he wasn't mistaken, the rigidity in her, an aloofness so raw.
That day she looked at him, him watching her and called him to her,
He had bought a ring, not for love, to give his company to her,
She laughed, he noticed, but had tears in her eyes,
"I am evil, but can you not stop loving me" she fell silent with her cold sighs.
"I don't think you are evil. I saw you bloom a rose" he said, recalling that magical experience.
"That shouldn't have happened, I intervened, I was selfish" she cried, he held her, close to cease the turbulence.
"It wasn't you, you should know. You are like me. From day one I knew." He said, revealing his true form,
"Are you a witch too?" She looked both surprised and shocked, as she looked at him, like a sun shining through the storm.
"Yes, and I sought permission, before that rose bloomed. Your moods affect the weather, and you bring happiness or doom" He said as he took out the ring.
She nodded and looked at the sky, the chill was going and the sun was shining,
If she had been weird, he was one too.
PS: Et I means You and I in Latin