The Great Gatsby By F. Scott Fitzgerald
Her voice was a wild tonic in the rain.
Her hair was glistening.
Her hands were cold and dripping.
I leaned back momentarily into my lane.
Daisy’s face looked at me dangerously.
“My dearest one”.
With a bright ecstatic smile.
Increasing the loud beating of my heart.
A damp streak of hair
Lay like a dash of blue paint across her cheeks,
With eyes glaring impatiently at me.
And my lips parted with an abortive attempt to laugh.
Then I sat down rigidly.
My elbow on the arm of the sofa.
And her face in my hand.
I looked conscientiously with tense eyes.
“You’re acting like a little boy”
She said impatiently.
I raised my hand to stop her words.
And cautiously, we went into the other room.