Love.

In that kiss

A thousand years

A kiss that speaks

Of the love we hear

In that hug

It is safe from harm

Through coldest days

We will stay warm

In your eyes

A pool of hope

No matter the test

Together we cope

In our love

Time stands still

From dusk till dawn

From our own strong will.

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A Canopy of Stars

She woke under a canopy of stars, each one blinking with as much surprise as she. Her hand touched the soft grass beneath her, a breeze caressed her face as it raced across the meadow. She sat up letting her eyes adjust to the dark. The moon was full and the sky clear. She was in a meadow surrounded by trees. It was as if mother nature had built a castle just for her. She heard some rustling now and then as small rabbits or frightened mice moved through the grass.

She looked down at herself and could barely make out a floral house coat. Not a robe but something more substantial. Her hair was dark in the moonlight and her hands seemed so much younger than she remembered. A noise across the meadow made her look up and a large stag broke through the treeline. He was huge and muscular. His crown of bone as long as he was tall. He was magnificent and she felt a tear roll down her cheek.
She stood up slowly. She didn’t want to spook the grand king of this wood. As she did the King moved toward her. He raced quickly from the wood to her in seconds, stopping five feet from her. She saw into his black eyes. They seemed as clear as the purest crystal. She kept still slowly reaching out her hand. To her surprise the King knelt before her and let her touch his proud nose. Her smile was a big as the swelling in her heart as she heard a soft voice somewhere far away.

In the white room the machines beeped and growled. Wires winding across the tiled floor to the single bed. Sitting on the bed was a young girl, no more than seven. She clutched onto a piece of paper that she held up to show the woman lying still beneath her.

“And see Nana. It’s so beautiful here and the King comes to say hi. He is a good King…so gentle. He will let you pat him and you won’t hurt anymore. I love you Nana.”

The girl lay back against the woman, still holding up the picture of a meadow, under stars, with the King standing proud.

Sigh.

    In the stolen night, she danced with the fireflies, dressed in dry moss from the ancient tree. She danced to the music of the toads and the wind.She danced under the light of the moon and the old stars. She danced in circles, until she was too dizzy and fell to the soft damp earth that was her momentary stage. She breathed deep, the smell of the forest so strong. She turned to the old man of the wood.
    “Was that a good dance?” she asked.
    The wind blew through the leaves of the giant tree, its massive trunk creaking and moaning an answer only she could hear.
    “Why thank you old man,” she smiled, her voice floating on the same breeze.
    To look at her she was dirty. This waif of a girl covered in the dirt of the woods. Her face dark, arms even darker, matched only by the filth over her legs. This was a creature who left bathing to those that cared. To look upon her was almost sad, until she looked back and you saw her eyes. These were the eyes of wonder, of faith and survival. They were eyes that looked into your heart, grabbed hold, and squeezed until you could not breathe. She was innocence and beguile, magic and truth. She was more than she appeared, at least that’s what the old man thought.
    The tree was older than the forest. In truth he was the father of the forest. His seeds floating down sun to moon and moon to sun, for a million days. Each tree a son or grandson, or great, great, great…well you understand. He was proud of his dominion, proud of his sons and happily spent the hours being pleased of himself. He never thought of a daughter, never wanted for such a thing, until she came to his roots.
    She was small for a tree, he remembered thinking, and moved around too much for one of his kin. She had found a break in the ground between his roots and had fallen asleep to escape the cold. He took pity on the tiny thing and cradled her, warmed her and sung with the wind and leaf. He took her in and as the rain came he did something he had not done in a thousand years. He moved, he willed his roots to close in and shield the sapling from the wet and cold. With that she became his and he became hers and the days were much more exciting than they were before.
    The old man knew she was not truly his. He knew the kin of this sapling. His roots were old and went for miles under the soft blanket of the earth mother. He was aware of the trees that moved. He had seen their cities, heard the screams of his children that built those cities. He had witnessed entire generations killed by the walking trees and their tools. He was sad over the loss of so many, but with this small one he would try to understand them.
    “Old man!” she snapped him out of his trance.
    “Old man! Are you in your past again?” she winked and kicked out her heel. “Don’t make me dance again, cause I will!”
    If a tree could smile, then the old man would have a smile 15 feet wide. The wind rustled leaves and his bark cracked and crinkled.
    “Well, I love you too old man,” she whispered to the leaves.
    Years past, as years do, and the sapling became a woman and the woman became old, but never as old as the old man. her hair got whiter, her dancing got slower and her voice became quieter…
    “OLD MAN!!”
    …almost.
    The wind replied, “yyyeeesssss?”
    “I am old, I can’t dance. I can hear you, but can’t see. I have lived with you for a lifetime and learned so much. I remember my cradle, deep in your roots and I thank you for your kindness, your care and your love.”
    Her eyes, though cloudy, still burned with such life, as she fell to the earth with a sigh as her last breath.
    The old man saw her fall
    If trees could cry, he did.
    The ground seemed to tremble, as the earth seemed to move. His roots came to hold her, bring her back to her home. He cradled her gently, as she was a babe. His roots closed around her as the wind hit his leaves.
    Those who could hear it would have spun a tall tale…about the song in the wind that seemed too sad to be real. The forest went quiet as the old man sung. One more of his saplings, but this was no son.
    If trees could love…
    A tree did love.

ending…in the light of a broken blind…

and I heard her,

in the morning of the end,

the light through a broken blind,

the sun in my eyes,

the sting of the day,

her hip against mine,

a touch without thought,

it mattered.

her face,

turned to mine,

eyes closed,

soft noises of sleep,

without the harsh light in in her eyes,

perfect,

in ways I could never say,

my hand on her cheek,

but I couldn’t feel,

her warmth was gone,

our life,

suddenly not a perfect grin,

my breath,

silent to this new day,

my body still,

but my heart remains,

my voice strained,

to just say one more time,

I love you,

and i am so sorry,

I never wanted to leave,

to go,

my darling…my darling…

I died.