The Long Lost Lover- A reverie
I was a boy. At an age well before any awareness of the passions
and dreams of a man, and yet I would dream of a woman. A particular
woman. She was mine. She was not maternal, nor a sister or a
friend, but I loved her. I did not understand love. I did not seek
it. But it was strong, it distracted me when I was awake and the
discomfort it gave me sometimes caused me to wish it away. It has
never left me.
She had a pale face set against a soft dark hair. Her voice
sparkled like water, and echoed in my min long after she spoke. In
her presence I felt the warmnt of her love. Only once have I seen
hands as delicate as hers. Although I try not to, I know I still
seek her
