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The Rose Opal

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Time heals all wounds
So they said.
To her, clichés hurt.
Irked. As did time.
When clocks ticked loud.
When rooms felt empty.
Time spoke. Clanged.
Spoke of rivers crossed.
Of love too often lost.
He had walked out.
On a bright spring day.
A look of pain, then gone.
Told her that was life.
Inconvenient, at times.
Of course, she blamed herself.
Forever, she had played judge & jury.

Until now. With Thomas.

Thomas, who asked no questions.
Who cared about now, not then.

He was like a kid about their first Christmas.
Together. Light encircling light. Candles. A tree.
Waiting as she opened his gift, a ring. Lovely.
A rose opal.  A pink snowball! she laughed.
She raced like a child from the room.
Returning with a wedding ring.

Her grandmother’s. Another rose opal.
Another love. Another story.

Timing is everything, Thomas said.
His words, like music to her ears
Made her want to dance. And sing.
Of course Thomas laughed. As she sang.
She was always a little off-key.

© 2012 S. Michaelswinter rose, zedge.net
Blank Canvas
Seven Love Stories – Prisma & Thomas

Author: LightWriters

Life. Faith. Wellness.

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