Even after all these years his face was filled with love songs that lead you to her.
He had eyes dark and drawing, skin that caused you to think of the English country side.
She was a beauty the kind that grew softer and better with age.
They were a perfect match in looks and life, anyone would tell you that, anyone but her. She loved him now, coming into that love like the summer evening slowly moving into the night.
He had eyes dark and drawing, skin that caused you to think of the English country side.
She was a beauty the kind that grew softer and better with age.
They were a perfect match in looks and life, anyone would tell you that, anyone but her. She loved him now, coming into that love like the summer evening slowly moving into the night.
Poets tell of love in many forms and shapes, hers had been like the hummingbird fast and surprising in it strength. She filled her days with work at the factory. Her evenings spent helping mother with children, cooking and chores, then came the moments of solitude with his letters.
Marriage was coming with his return, each letter held the newest plan for their life ahead. Payday would add something to her hope chest newly embroidered pillow cases, blankets, table clothes, silverware, things mothers need not see and dreams.
Marriage was coming with his return, each letter held the newest plan for their life ahead. Payday would add something to her hope chest newly embroidered pillow cases, blankets, table clothes, silverware, things mothers need not see and dreams.
The whistle blew, a break called, Sister knew she would find her outside, they always met for those few minutes, a letter may have come and they could share the joys of each other's love's.
Dappling shade covered the lawn but Sister found it hard see her there by the edge, something was wrong terrible wrong each step proved that, She was like a porcelain figurine yet like a rag doll thrown in a corner.
In trembling voice "He has come home. He was just here. He doesn't love me there is no wedding, he doesn't love me anymore, he doesn't love me".
Dappling shade covered the lawn but Sister found it hard see her there by the edge, something was wrong terrible wrong each step proved that, She was like a porcelain figurine yet like a rag doll thrown in a corner.
In trembling voice "He has come home. He was just here. He doesn't love me there is no wedding, he doesn't love me anymore, he doesn't love me".
The chest was empty She had given her things to others, she didn't want the reminders, she didn't want this life. Her heart had began to encase itself trying to stop the pain. Pain can lead you to strange places, hers said the CITY, a new life, a free life what ever she wanted, whom ever she wanted, She packed.
His easy ways drew them together, freedom was all they wanted the city gave and they took. Evenings spent on the stoop watching, evening spent exploring the city, evening with friends talking, playing cards, being free.
His love sprouted somewhere along those evenings, slowly it climbed reaching into his heart loosening freedoms grip replacing it with a longing for marriage,family and home.
His love sprouted somewhere along those evenings, slowly it climbed reaching into his heart loosening freedoms grip replacing it with a longing for marriage,family and home.
She too let go of freedoms grip, Just which day love came only she knows.
We are left to wonder.
We are left to wonder.
