dance, divine

a stroll … just a stroll … like any other numberless now, the times this path had taken her to the wood - the dark, deep wood where her memories dwelled thoughts astray in the gloaming … the same walk she and her love had taken the many years he was still with her many years … now gone and though her marrow ached and her brittle bones bent at odd angles, making each step an effort, this jaunt was still the highlight of each day for his spirit dwelled here in the shadowy, umbral depths of the forest and she felt closest to him here … now … she stopped for a moment for the earlier rain had left a shallow puddle reflecting the shiny, vibrant colors of her dress in a late-day ray of sun - hundreds of tinted pixies danced about her feet each one a precious memory - a laugh, a kiss, a smile from her beloved endless recollections of a life as full as any … oh how she wished he could see as the dazzled palette waltzed about her like a carousel of confetti … but … perhaps it was all his doing - a message from the warming darkness that he was near … that the time had come for him to finally walk her home … she smiled, closed her eyes and wished waiting for the shadows to wrap their soft arms about her and the evergreens to whisper their tender … farewell. Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden, April 28, 2024