The Traveler

The Traveler

Like a shadow that slowly carries coolness across the yard, She moves silently across the miles. A whisper of a thing, a soul really, She transgresses time and space to be with him.

He barely notices Her presence he is so consumed, so engrossed in his daily affairs.   She approaches him as a hushed melody, a song that comes to his mind that he hears but does not listen to. 

Moments go by, and finally, he raises his head from the tasks at hand and comes to realize She is with him.  He smiles.  He feels Her warmth, he knows She is there, he is overwhelmed with Her love. 

Tranquility, just for that moment, wraps it’s gentle hands around his heart, his eyes fall heavy and open again.  And in that brief instant before he focuses anew on his labor, he believes perhaps he sees Her standing there.

She is nothing more than a golden aura, a hint of the essence of Her. Yet, the calm ardor that seems to beam across the room, falls sweetly upon his face, travels down his chest and envelops him, enters him with a tenderness that She brings to him when She comes to him.  His heart is warmed with Her touch. He feels Her smile.  He is calmed, he is satisfied, and She is gone.

Like the gentle breeze that carries the scent of wildflowers across the prairie, She drifts slowly back to Her resting place, to the woman She calls home. 

Time never having skipped a beat, She glides back around the woman’s heart, bringing with Her the warmth of his smile.  His essence, carried on the wings of an angel, enters her and she is reminded of him. She smiles. She feels his spirit, and then she is overwhelmed with her love for him. 

She is puzzled with this sensation, baffled at the sweetness and gentleness that drapes her entire being when she is reminded of him.  But, on this day she only leans back in her chair, closes her eyes, and inhales the beauty of the feeling.  Love is good.

copyright 1997