Sarah's prompt: The Scar

She put her hand to her cheek and ran her fingers along it. Barely perceptible amidst the wrinkles and laugh lines on her cheek, she remembered the day she got the scar. They had been married four months, two weeks and five days. The day had started out badly and had only gotten worse.
His day at work had been filled with tension that had ended with harsh words and the company had let him go. He hadn’t wanted to tell her so he stopped off at a local bar to a have a couple of beers.
He was two hours late when he finally got home and supper was burned. They were fighting even before he was all the way through the front door. He went straight to the fridge and grabbed a beer. It was followed by four more in quick succession. Angry words rose louder and louder through the apartment window. He had said something hateful and she had smarted off to him and he hit her, his wedding ring tearing the soft skin on her cheek.
Immediately he was sober and begging her forgiveness. She just stared at him with a deer in the headlights kind of look and then crying hysterically she ran from him to the bathroom and locked the door. No pleading on his part could induce her to open it and finally he had walked back into the living room. He sat down in front of the television not really watching but not really knowing what else to do. Eventually he heard the bathroom door open and he had called her name softly but she hadn’t responded. He stayed in that chair for two more hours wanting to talk to her, to hold her but he didn’t know what to say or what to do. Eventually he got up and went into the bedroom the lights were off and she appeared to be sleeping. He lay down next to her not touching her, just laying there. Finally he fell asleep.
She could hear his breathing slow and then steadily he began to snore. She waited until she was absolutely certain that he was completely asleep. She sat up and turned on the light.
“What the f…” he started to scream as he sat bolt upright in bed his face burning, the words died on his lips as he saw her sitting there with the knife in her hands, tears streaming down her face. He brought his hand down from his cheek. It was covered in blood. He got up and looked in the mirror. He could see the gash in his cheek. “Licia?”
“You will eventually always fall asleep.” She whispered.
“What?”
“I love you. I want to be with you. I want to share my life with you.” The words came faster now. “But I will not let you hit me. I will not. So I’m telling you, I will stay with you and we can have a wonderful life. But you must remember that if you ever hit me again, ever. That eventually you will have to sleep and I will cut you. I will cut you bad.” She began to sob and he went to her on the bed. It was a long night, he promised he would never hurt her like this again. Eventually they had made love and they had slept and they had lived their life both scars reminding them of what they could lose.
It had not always been easy, she miscarried the first baby. They had money problems off and on. It had not always been hard. They had a family, three girls and a boy. They built a home and a life together.
51 years, they had buried their youngest daughter, drugs and fast cars had killed her. The other children had grown up, married and had families of their own, 8 grandchildren, one great grandchild. They had loved each other and he had kept his promise to never hit her again.
She reached into the casket and wiped away the makeup they had put on him. Before they closed it, before they took him away, she touched his face, she ran her finger along the scar, she caressed his cheek and she said goodbye to the man she loved.

Sarah's prompt: After midnight

After midnight, when the moon is high, and the air is still, she slips silently from her bedroom. Light as air in her white cotton and lace night gown she runs across the lawn, until she comes to the edge of the lake. In the silence and the stillness she waits patiently, quietly, her breath and the beating of her heart are all that she can here.
She waits, crouching by the edge of the water hidden by the tall marsh grass, fearful that someone might see her, but of course everyone is asleep. She does not doubt that he will come. She waits until finally he appears from the trees at the edge of the arbor. He makes his way towards her. Not wanting to rush too quickly to her side though he longs to be with her but he knows, as she knows, that once he is there and they have done what they have come here to do he must return to the trees, as she must return to the manor.
She shivers not from the cold but in anticipation. Soon, so very soon., then he is there and she is in his arms. He kisses her a single tender, loving kiss and she kisses him back and they hold each other close.
“How much longer?” She asks.
“200 more single moonlit kisses, given after midnight, before the spell can be broken,” He whispers. “200 more.”
“Then 200 more it will be and then we will be together, day and night. I will see you tomorrow my love, after midnight.”
“After midnight my darling.” He holds her close for one more moment and then he returns to the arbor and she to her bedroom.

Sarah's prompt: Why not?

Who would have thought by some mere chance,
Coincidence or circumstance,
Or perhaps by happenstance
That I’d be here with you?

I hadn’t counted on the moon,
Or clouds or stars or sun,
I didn’t know you were the one.
And yet, well, here you are.

With gentle words and tender touch,
I didn’t know you’d love this much,
Or of your special ways and such
That caress my hidden heart.

I could ask so many things like how
And when and where and why,
But I am certain that you’d reply,
Why not?

january 12

Branches of lemon grass
Fern
Green stock
Babies breath in white and pink
Lilies
White lilacs
Palest peach colored roses
Rembrandt roses
Sheets of satin
Ribbon and lace
A banquet attended by few
Crying softly
Deep sobs
A darkened room
The end of a romance

They have no words for such things - jan 7

Once when no one was looking a butterfly peeked through the window. She saw rows of beautifully bound books. She saw the yellow chenille throw at the end of the couch. She saw the roses in the cut glass vase on the dining room table.
She flew off to tell her friends but she had no words to describe what she had seen. Outside of my little flat there are flowers and trees, birds and bugs but how can you describe a yellow chenille throw to a mockingbird? What does a squirrel know of a cut glass vase?
She thought and she thought and then decided to use the words she knew. She shared with the chipmunk about the rainbows that ran along the walls in variations of all different colors in all different directions. She told the rabbit about a bed of starlight inside a darkened place. She flew to the edge of the pond and told the swan about the roses growing in an ice stalk that shimmered and sparkled in the sunlight.
The following afternoon the butterfly came back and peeked through the window to see what she could see. The next day she used the words she knew to describe what she had seen. This went on for almost a week. There was great excitement throughout the garden as the animals heard of the of rainbows, starlight, shimmering ice stalks and so many other things.
Today the little butterfly came but she went away sad. Outside in the garden there are many beautiful things. But today when no one was looking and the little butterfly peeked through the window she saw love reflected in your eyes, she heard the sighs after we kissed, and the gentleness of our embrace. Butterflies can’t share the secrets of love.

jan 5th

Too dark
To hear
The call of the nightingale.

Too still
To know
The kiss of the night’s breeze.

Too long
To remember
The sense of the freedom.

Too soon
To end up
The whisper of the past.

train ride

I arrive at the Milan train station 10 minutes before departure, out of breath. I’ve brought a book to read on the way but I am too excited.
The car is almost half empty, older men reading the newspaper, a couple of suits, a young couple giggling in their seats near the back and two women looking bored and distracted as only European women can.
The train left the station and I look out on the Italian countryside. Could it really have been 17 years since we were on our first train ride together? I remember it so well.
I had gone to that party at Anise’s not knowing anyone. You came up to me and started talking. We’d left the party three hours later and found a diner and talked all night. Our bill had been $4.85 and we left the waitress a $20 dollar tip.
“Let’s go on an adventure!” You had said. I had agreed and so two hours later we met at the train station. I had thrown a couple changes of clothes in a bag.
“Ever been to Vermont?” You asked. I shook my head. “Me neither.” We each got a ticket to St. Albans. We had to change trains after a couple of hours and spend another 6 hours on that second train. It was snowing outside and we watched the countryside transform softly. We laughed and talked and then we both fell asleep and awoke in that quaint little town. What was it called? Oh yes, St. Albans! Remember we stopped for lunch at a bakery where we had soup in bread bowls? So long ago, what happened to us?
I was amazed to find your name on the faculty list at the University in Bologna. I can’t wait to see you.

drowning light

The sun has set into the ocean and already the night has begun to intrude upon the light. In the eastern parts of the sky the lavender clouds are turning to a dark slate grey. Across the sky and the water bright streaks of yellow and orange remain but they are beginning to fade.
I must let go. I know I must or I will certainly drown but I can not. I hold you, my arms outstretched and desperate even though the brightness is descending deeper.
The oranges and yellows have turned to crimson and night is spreading further across the sky. The blues have deepened and softened and as if to mock me, Venus has appeared just above the horizon.
Still I hold on. Barely keeping my face out of the water, my fingers beginning to slip, I begin to recite all the reasons why I should let go – why I must let go. I can taste the salty water and am not certain whether I am drinking the ocean or my tears.
Across the sky now a deepened blue, stars begin to appear one by one and a harvest moon begins to rise casting its glow upon the water. “Let go,’ it calls to me. ‘Let go and live.”
But I cannot hear, my ears are filled with water. Then I see your face. As you look towards me, I know that I would rather drown trying to hold onto you. I must have your love to live. Knowing that it draws me deeper into waters that will eventually drown me, yet I chose to drown rather then live in what would only be darkness to my heart.
I begin to breathe in water. I am now completely submerged. Across the black surface of the water there is a faint breeze and what others would see as light from the stars and the moon but we know it is the light of our love shimmering up to dance on the surface of the water.

dec 12

Like a dream, the grey and fog have enshrouded the edges. Softening the trees and making everything appear in grey scale, only this single spot having color and life. We sit together drinking coffee. Watching the flickering lights on the Christmas tree, comfortable with each other. We talk of times past and what may someday be. Just the two of us, as if in a cocoon, insulated from everything and everyone. Knowing it can’t last but wanting to savor every moment. Not wanting to think about the time but it intrudes, whispering. We pretend we can not hear it.
“Do you remember when?” “What will happen when?” We laugh and relax into each other. Your hands warm from the coffee cup touch my skin. The fire is starting to fade and the rain has started to fall. Like the chalk pictures in Mary Poppins, the make believe is beginning to disappear. I cling desperately to every moment. You lean forward as if to leave but I lean into you and kiss you. Just one more minute.
Finally we give into the inevitable.
“When can we do this again?”
“Shhhh, look for me in the fog, you know its only a dream.”
“What if the dream never becomes reality?”
“Then we’ve had the dream.”
“I loved our time together.”
“Me too.” The log falls and we jump startled at the sound. The rain is falling harder.
“Promise you won’t cry when I go.” I smile but the smile doesn’t reach my eyes.
“I can not. I'm sorry.”
I look out the window. The fog has moved closer, the rain slower now, but steady. Our reality shrinking further, when I look back I find myself alone. I look on the coffee table there is only one cup, the christmas tree unlit, the fireplace cold. Could it have it have only been a dream? But I can still feel your fingers on my skin, your lips caressing mine; the reality or my imagination so hard to seperate in the twilight.