Just a warning, this needs work, and I'll be doing revisions tonight on this train wreck.

A Spring Evening

She, a debutante in the spring of a new year,
Stands before a mirror, blithely smoothing the wrinkles of a fine blue dress that falls over her slender body like a single fold of silk as music, light and rhythmic like rain falling on the damp ground, permeates through the room,

And soon she will adjust her dark hair that is as thick as a stifling evening
And fighting the bubbles of stress, she will indulge freely in a variety of footwear
As a newly practiced smile, nervous but slight
Like the jingle of coins in anxious hands,
Will stretch across her round, cream colored face,

While three blocks down, a young man, with a light, brown jacket draped around his tall frame, greets a stranger who sits waiting for the bus, with an amiable hello and while visiting a flouriest operating under a quaint, red tile roof, he decides on a select purchase, something, it seems, has caught his attention,

And reaching into his pocket for loose change, he casually inquires about the weather in a Vain attempt to acquire time, and the proprietor, as earnest as a small child, presents a Verbose account, in a voice of monotone precision, of two menacing low pressure systems in the area

As it seems, the man states, that if these two were to meet, why, the place would never be the same, and he motions a hand, that parades out from his large figure like a small eddy, to the park across the street, and the young man, unsure of the admonition, opens the door in a charge, with a wave of thanks, and after traversing the cracks and crevices of the sidewalk, he reaches her door, where a light, in which a slender silhouette dances in an air of restlessness, flashes on, as he knocks in a careful rhythm on a rain filled evening.

this is a nice vignette. i'm not sure if you're going for a poetry or prose feel here (not that it honestly matters all that much how you categorise what you write), but if this was something i wrote, i'd give it a little more room to breathe by cutting some stuff and chopping it up a bit:




soon she'll adjust her dark hair,
thick as a stifling evening
against bubbles of stress,
she induldges in a variety of footwear
the newly (nervous but slight) practiced smile
stretches 'cross her creamy face
like a jingle of coins in an anxious hand

obviously, that's my style, not necessarially yours, so if it doesn't work for you, it doesn't work for you.

I hear you, that's what my teacher suggested, she thought the whole was good but the language in parts was slightly stiff.

i feel like you're holding the reigns a little tightly, as though you want the reader to perceive exactly what you have in mind...which i don't think is a bad thing, but it makes some of your phrases sound a bit academic, i guess, is a good word. maybe try giving us more of a framework and letting our imaginations fill in the rest and see if you like that any better.

Maybe, throw in some Hemingway type prose lines