Post by gisellelamorte on Mar 11, 2009 11:24:25 GMT -5
~weeks had passed, weeks with him........and in a way also weeks without him. For how will she hold on to him when all she is afraid of is to loose him again. she prayed for his safe return....before the letter.......before he died. Then she shouted at her God, cursed him, bartered with him, her soul...........his life...anything if it just was not true.
And it had been.........not true. God had not taken her soul, instead he had given her hear heart....her own life. For she sees his face every day. She feels his voice as it pours into her all to eager ears. She welcomes him, she tends to him.....he will nae be without clothes, strong quality material, each stitched by her own hand, boots payed with money she earned. She wants this man, she needs this man, but she wants him to be happy above all........ She will nae hold him, for should he wish to travel she will not hang on to him....she will not grasp his hand and lock him to her. She will nae..........she will ....nae.....
Now a week...they sleep together, her bed, made for just one, but it was all they needed. Each night locked in an embrace that would fuse them together. She finds comfort in the beating of his heart, the circle of his arms around her, and she sleeps as he sleeps.........she sleeps the sleep of angels, barring all thoughts of loosing him again. For as long as she holds him.......he is there....truly there, hers...........
Early mornings, and late evenings she bakes, bread, sweet wares, and of late she has been allowed by the cook to make gruel and soups. She knows she bakes for him.....in quantities which could feed a castle, and army which travels, as she knows.........it will. And so the last days have been just baking, cooking, building a stock. The bread harder, stronger to withstand many days of travel. The soup thick, almost like porridge, such that it will take water, even salt water to dilute it and feed men.
As the groups gather she fears, she fears he will leave.........she will not stop him...nae hold him........she will nae stop .........never stop.......loving him.
And it had been.........not true. God had not taken her soul, instead he had given her hear heart....her own life. For she sees his face every day. She feels his voice as it pours into her all to eager ears. She welcomes him, she tends to him.....he will nae be without clothes, strong quality material, each stitched by her own hand, boots payed with money she earned. She wants this man, she needs this man, but she wants him to be happy above all........ She will nae hold him, for should he wish to travel she will not hang on to him....she will not grasp his hand and lock him to her. She will nae..........she will ....nae.....
Now a week...they sleep together, her bed, made for just one, but it was all they needed. Each night locked in an embrace that would fuse them together. She finds comfort in the beating of his heart, the circle of his arms around her, and she sleeps as he sleeps.........she sleeps the sleep of angels, barring all thoughts of loosing him again. For as long as she holds him.......he is there....truly there, hers...........
Early mornings, and late evenings she bakes, bread, sweet wares, and of late she has been allowed by the cook to make gruel and soups. She knows she bakes for him.....in quantities which could feed a castle, and army which travels, as she knows.........it will. And so the last days have been just baking, cooking, building a stock. The bread harder, stronger to withstand many days of travel. The soup thick, almost like porridge, such that it will take water, even salt water to dilute it and feed men.
As the groups gather she fears, she fears he will leave.........she will not stop him...nae hold him........she will nae stop .........never stop.......loving him.
