Day 127
I wasn't always this old. One day it just crept up on me and jumped on my back, like a hag, riding me into my grave. What happened to my youth?
I was in love once, with a beautiful young woman.
We meet in high school and dreamed of mahogany dining room furniture with seating for 16 people; of crystal wine goblets and water glasses, plates with silver trim, and delicate china cups.
We dreamed of holiday dinners with family and friends, eating the most succulent roast turkey with grandma's favorite stuffing. The stuffing always needed more sage.
A porch all the way across the front of our house with a two person swing at one end. We would sit in the evening and talk about our day. She would rest her head on my shoulder and hold my hand. Her hair would smell of jasmine or honeysuckle depending on her mood that day.
When we retired to bed and turned out the lights, I would feel myself the most fortunate man. My love would spoon up against me, turn her head and I would taste her full lips. Most nights we would make love before drifting off to sleep.
When I awaken in the morning I am alone. The scent of flowers, just a dream. I try to sleep, to return to her arms, to gaze into her eyes, live in her smile. But I cannot. All I can do is moving through my dreary life. When darkness falls. when my day ends, I pray I go there again.
Until tomorrow,
Ken
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