You were here with me again. Did you know?
Somewhere between Monday and Tuesday, in the sueded navy blue deep, you illuminated everything.
You were all at once young and vulnerable and old and wise, but this time you were no longer gritting against pain.
Instead, you were pulsing joy and radiating love with the most gentle pink and gold peace. Your aura had a fragrance better than any perfume.
We chatted and giggled and I touched your velvet skin and you played with my hair and asked me about my herb garden.
I asked you about your writing and are you in love? Your twinkling brown eyes said that you want to be.
One minute we were on your grade school playground, noisy and happy, the next floating on a muddy lake, blue sky above us, quiet and calm.
A new face emerged around the corner and wondered who I was, then she knew and turned away. Running. Not afraid, just… ashamed. You smiled at me and wrapped your arms around my middle, squeezing tight. I held you still and inhaled sunshine from the top of your head.
There’s a change happening isn’t there? I feel it. I feel you. And this opens such a floodgate.
I have been smiling through my pain, too.
But while you were here, glowing in the dark, neither of us had to.
Because nothing is stronger than love.
I’m linking up this week with Kat Bouska, grateful for her invitation to write in twelve lines.
I took some liberty, but she is very forgiving.
And without the safety of restraint I might not have even tried to share this.