Saturday, September 26, 2009

A Weary Traveler

Frost settling upon the window glass,
crystallizing, as the night grew colder.
The fire crackling, warmth inside the old cabin,
as she pulled the soft cotton comforter over her shoulder.

She stared out the window as though awaiting something, someone,
that could somehow rescue her from this silent lonely, place.
She sipped from her cup the steamy hot cocoa, catching the aroma upon taste.
The flavor caressing her lips, a light smile upon her face.

Her hair still wet from the softness of a bath, fell upon her shoulders,
she arose from her chair, and removed a book from the shelf, and lit the lantern,
and began reading from the page she had marked,
a romance novel, shadowed by the flicker of light beside her, slow burn.

She whispered some of the words aloud,
as the lines of writing met upon her own heart.
She quietly closed the book and placed it upon the table beside her.
Perhaps this love of her own in her mind, could be worlds apart.

A knock came upon the door, a sense of urgency,
fast paced heartbeat, she collected herself, opening the door, cold air rushing through.
A weary traveler, an arm broken from a fall, requesting her help,
she let him in, to see what she could do.

His eyes, kind, thankful, yet so tired.
She let him rest upon the sofa, quietly watching him upon sleep,
as her eyes closed, drifting in dreams, yet again her love she would meet,
deep inside, passions stirring, her mind would keep.

He had awoken before her, tending the fire.
The smell of a freshly cooked breakfast and coffee,
smiling upon her, “I hoped you would not mind.”
His offer, she smiled back at him,
and life as she knew it, changed, and her book solemnly left for another heart to find.

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