Friday, July 13, 2007

A ghost in the night


She came to him in his nighttime slumber, beautiful, silent, her dark hair falling ever so gently off her shoulders.

He was awed, as always, by her quiet beauty, by the way her eyes took the form of every hope and dream that had ever passed through his soul. She stood there, smiling, gesturing for him to come toward her.

He reached out to touch her, to feel the electricity, and she was gone.

He awoke in a sweat, disoriented, unable to move. He lay there in the darkness, finally caught his breath.

Sleep was a million miles away, so he rose and turned on the light.

The last time he saw her, she was in from the city. It had been five years, but time had done nothing but make him want her.

She hugged him and asked about his health. He tried a poker face, knew it wouldn't work. He wanted to hold her for the rest of her life.

As it was, he held her hand, gazed into those dark eyes for a brief, shining moment, and walked into the cool afternoon air.

He sat in his truck awhile, unable or unwilling to start the engine. The tears were brief, but they originated somewhere deep in his being.

And now, on this sultry summer night, the rain pelting his tin roof, she was with him again.

He fell asleep as the first streaks of dawn snaked across the morning sky.

This time, he didn't dream.



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