This story is rated 3 stars (8 ratings).

by Gwenllian

The pale light of dawn sidles through a gap in the curtains, and through dust motes I see your beloved face on the pillow, the curve of your cheek, your hair softly curling on your neck, your breath soft and slow, with the occasional snuffling snore like a puppy, I know every inch of you, every breath , every sound of you. You are like a much loved book, when you know every word, but still reading it makes you smile.
I turn back to the window, the sun is growing stronger, throwing dappled shapes onto the curtains, Minarets and big tops and elephants and snakes. An art teacher once told me that a true artist sees pictures and patterns in everything, I smile and turn back to you...... In the strong shaft of sunlight I see your empty pillow , I bury my face in it and try to drink in your ever fading scent. I close my eyes and see your face burnt in my artists eyelids. I cry with grief and rage.
The rude alarm clock brings me back with it's sharp insistant call to reality. I get up bathe and dress and get on with my day.
But I'm only wasting time, til the sunlight fades and the muted shades of twilight begin, for it is only at dawn and at twilight, those half worlds between life and death that I know I will see you with arms outstretched, my forever and never lover.

© Gwenllian 2011



From the first time I read to now it remains beautiful and touching.

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