Fairy Tale - Part 3b
The blizzard had past and with it the wind.
In the sunshine she surveyed the rubble.
She thought she should smile
But snow made her shiver
And the dream felt like something she couldn’t not feel
And the mailman and mama and girls in white dresses were too far away
For her face to cause them discomfort disguised as disapproval.
So she didn’t smile
And instead became aware
That the snow lingering on her nose and eyelashes
Was melting in streams down her cheeks.
If only, if only
The voice still it beckoned
About to rise to continue her quest
She heard a distant melody approaching
Reedy, alto and minor
Played by a stranger in a woolen poncho and leather boots
Flanked by a hound in a jewel studded collar.
As he neared, he slid the music maker into its holder on his belt,
Commanded the hound be still,
And proceeded to silently clean up the rubble
As she sat watching with streams on her cheeks.
She heard the entreating ‘if only’ still calling
But after some moments of watching him work
In graceful, efficiency, completely soundless
She no longer heeded the call
And though it continued
After a while
She didn’t hear it at all.
He finished his work
And drew from his pocket a perfectly soft bandana.
With a tear in his eye
And the gentlest of smiles
Wiped the snow from her lashes.
And gave her a rose.
‘Here, love’
Looking down at the petals she saw a drop
And in it her perfect reflection.
With tears still streaming she felt like smiling.
‘Thank you, love’ she said
In her own voice
The voice of her dream.
Copyright © Nancy Jones | Year Posted 2007
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