A touch of Spring?

"Why is she not coming," said the elf as he impatiently tore grass up from the forest floor. They had agreed to meet at the smallest lake in the largest forest when the sun was in the midst of the sky, but he had arrived at least one hour too early.

For she was the Alpha and Omega for him. He smiled dreamily at the thought of her long, curved eyelashes which blinked so exquisitely seductive that it almost seemed deliberate. It did not matter that she cooked up in this way, rather the contrary.

She was adorable and so endearing that he found it difficult to sit still when they were together. He watched her incessantly, alternating from all possible sides, his mind was completely focused on her, and he had to roam her "by chance" and feel her delicate scent again, again and again. There was no end to it.

They used to dance cheering up and down and back and forth on sunbeams, and although it was only in february, it could well be done today, for not a breath of wind, and the sky had blue spots. A little advance of spring, it would be a waste of time not to take, and such a beautiful, frosty day would the sun's rays being reflected, shimmering and glittering, their shiny wings, so one could almost come to think of lit sparklers.

A young couple who went walking in the woods, for the air, the digestive and the dog's fault, as they put it, caught sight of them, and the girl exclaimed:

"Nah, see the beautiful dragonflies. How they sparkle. They exhibits their golden  chains of love.”