The stranger he was until that moment
passion was unspoken and met
a glide of the hand met hers
one finger on lips waiting to be woken
there under the olive tree
he did lay her
slowly and vividly loved her...

They spoke not a word that night
he knew what she needed
when she settled with a smile,
her fingers lining his face
just one more time
she pleads....

The Stranger felt her every need
felt the passion and love
he took her to many places
held with each cry
until she died...

The stranger stood at the grave
told her 'I loved you any way
I always did and I always will.
You were my Valentine.'*

Debbie Brooks 2014