In a far away land where the winds blew incessantly and the sun was awkward with shyness,
I longed for my lover.
The one whose voice is softer than the cold winds at mid night.
For when she sang, even the birds awoke in their nests
Delighted with glee at how the song breezed through their feathers.
When she smiled, the moon always went dark with envy
For then, no one would call it fair.
And when she walked, the night froze with jealousy
For then, nothing was more graceful.
My skin longed for her gentle touch in the cold nights.
I longed for how her hands with the long fingers
Ran across my skin like an old musician plucking immaculately at the harp.
Most of all, I longed for her.
Her presence was like the evening sun
Beneath which you could sit on your old rocking chair and watch the orange disappear into the horizon.
Her stories breathed new life into you
And for a while, you forgot how difficult it was to be a man.
A man who had to have a constant plan.
With her, the lines on your old forehead melted away when she told you funny stories from her childhood.
And your heart beat youthful blood into your veins.
I wondered if I would find her the same.
If she would still dance with her head swinging from side to side as if to challenge the wind.
I wondered if she would laugh that loud laughter
That shook the walls from their lifeless slumber.
I wondered if she would still look at me with those dancing eyes
And let me hold her hand as I lead her into the dark night
To dance beneath the stars.

© Maathe