The walls of stone staggered, as those innocent looking eyes sought an entry into my inner world. If a brick was dislodged, the whole fence fell. If a spring flower blossomed out of an icy condition. “Pluck it out, stomp on it.” The manner in which he spoke, its softness, its kindness a ruse. Walls of stone crumbled. Ice dissipated into mist.
Closed my eyes, my ears, and shut out all my senses. He reached out, brought me a bouquet of spring flowers, and a rhythm of the seasons. A man like that was worth a chance.