Chapter 7 - Understanding Her Language

Understanding Her Language

What he over looked was the canvas,

its texture,

the way light flooded its magnitude,

magnitude of brightness,

brightness upon that of already white,

white neutral tint that sat before her,

occupying space and time,

she would put the brush stroke of pastel colour,

the subtle cunning way

of her understanding the language

a language of her own thoughts

while she painted,

he would watch her eyes,

lyrical eyes grow with that of love,

love beyond measures of what they both felt

what they both felt about one another

The reflection of light,

its opening of winters wonderland of virgin birth,

birth of whiteness

it clings to that of every branch on tree...

His hands, his fingers delicately

in a fine manner,

like that of the brush she paints with,

he strokes her beautiful soft blond hair,

she shows no resistance,

no resistance to his gentle embrace,

his waltz of a dance

feeling his fingers part her wind,

sea breeze blown hair,

closing her eyes seeing him,

seeing the way he last touched ,

stroking the softness of her skin

while he made love to her.

She just smiled and then whispered,

she whispered with her mute words,

putting down the brush of pastel colour,

writing in her own words,

her words for his eyes to see -

Thank you my love,

thank you for the love you share,

thank you for the way

you treat this mute woman I am.

The hearth of a warm, warm fire, it glows

It glows with an ambient embrace of warmth

upon a window pane of jack frost.

He whispers upon her ear, yes,

yes she can hear,

she hears the words of this man she loves,

never wanting to let him go..

.