The Great Gatsby By F. Scott Fitzgerald

He
Pale as death,
Hands plunged in his
Standing in a puddle of water.
Glaring tragically into her eyes,
Walking sharply like he’s on live wire.
He reclines against a mantelpiece,
Stares down at her with distraught eyes
Before resigning rigidly.

She
Like a daisy,
Beneath a three cornered lavender hat.
Face lit with a bright ecstatic smile,
Exhilarating ripple of her voice
Like a wild tonic in the rain.
Damp streak of hair
Laying like a dash of blue paint
Lazily across her face.
Hands glistening wet with drops of water.
Sitting gracefully on the edge of her chair
Acting embarrassed all night.

Vera