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A Harps Delight

A moistened breeze swam by, cool and refreshing. A scent briskly followed, daintily with elasticity pulling gravity. My neck rotated its orbit in anticipation of a smile gingerly turning away from a doting glance. A blue Pontiac at the stop sign, a man and his Siberian huskie soaking up the sun; smiling from ear to ear.

Small children running through sprinkles of water from a hose. A two-family house with a brick finish created a picturesque scene near the park. “Get away” Annoyed by mischief and constant intrusion the woman nearly tore a vain as she bellowed commands to the cheerful irritants.

Spinning intently chasing a whiff, I held my breath waiting to inhale that potion that now encapsulates my realm.

A slender physique, and eyes entrenched at the border of her soul. Her rendition of grace supersedes all. My hopes laid bare to the trained eye.

Coming full circle, there stands nothing tugging my interest.

“Hello!” said the wind stretching each syllable, intensely latching onto my surface. My vision was blurred by sudden collisions of sound tickling my eardrum. The waves inspired rhythm in the tip of my toes, and desire in my fingertips.

Reaching to the depths of my willpower to hold the memory, wrapping it tight with admiration and burying it deep in the crux of my affectionate longing.

I sleep with “Hello” teasing my being, I run down halls opening every door anticipating a glimmer of this beauty.

My imagination had gone rogue, my reality has vanished.

I strolled every day as I approached the corner of Drahner Rd, expecting a sniff of bliss.

Her luminous hair massaged my palm as I caressed her scalp. Her laugh drew the birds near, a song of undeniable authenticity. The compassionate use of words, the reluctance of her ego; I dreamt of it often.

The radiance of her skin illuminates the shadows, her steps were light and heavenly as if to pay gratitude to the ground she travels. Am I lost?

Where is this beauty I’ve imagined? As I scour the circumference. Meticulously analyzing every perfume I encounter, dashing to every sound of “Hello”.

Fatigue wears on my belief.

In a cold sweat, I awaken, gasping for air. That voice haunts my existence

I sit at the foot of my bed, and the creaks of the floorboard alarm me, “Hey” nervous someone might answer, and I paused for a response.

A gentle draft brushes against the curtains tipping over that English ivy sitting so peacefully. Full of color, my clay pot is now smashed all over the floor; uninterested I ignore the mess.

My bed becomes my office, staring at pictures of magazines pretending the scent was connected to a star or perhaps a mogul. My mind was captivated by an endless longing to melt in her embrace.

No longer could I reference life before that day, time seems to have begun at that very moment? Stiff and settled in the dip my unassuming body has created in the mattress, the outside world plagues my sight.

My emotions begin to burn. The sound of wind whistling past any open passage, irked my bitterness. Grinding my teeth, hoping to erode any rational thought.

There’s no such thing as love anymore. Screaming my frustrations away until the neighbors began banging against my walls showing their disapproval.

Tears begin to soak my cheeks, my hands trembled with anxiety. I needed fresh air.

A misty breeze danced by, light and playful. The scent was pleasant to my nose. I turn swiftly so as not to lose its trail, at last, I have found you.

I blinked slowly so as not to miss a thing, jumping and turning with my arms stretched to stop the passerby.

“Gotcha” Frightened by such a random greeting, the elderly woman screamed and scooted along to the park.

“Young people these days need to stay away from that darn punk hop music, it's frying their brains.” one said in hopes of reaching a troubled youth. Condemned to my senses; I shied away.

“Hello?” jumps off the tip of her tongue delicately pulling my sanity back into a cold illusion. I follow a jogger with headphones, wondering if Adele motivated her to say those words in my vicinity. I catch sight of a couple blissful and unaware of the universe, maybe she greeted him and I was the third wheel.

My phone rings.

My heart quickened.

My hands were sweaty, I grab the phone and tossed it into the trash. I must find the harmony which livens my soul, this melody that entices my sexuality. Dare I give up?

I just began to run, without a destination full of purpose.

The sweat trickled down my face, and my breaths shortened to pull oxygen in quicker; lightheaded I can not remember my last meal.

The intensity of their voices and the seriousness of their concerns awoke me. “Rest” caringly laying a blanket over me, the nurse grabbed a glass of water slowly placing it at the tip of my lips.

Refreshed and regretful I drank up.

“Mr. Taylor has a severe case of dehydration” read my medical chart.

Unrelenting and unbeaten I snatched the IVs from my veins, tossed my clothes in a discharge bag, and bolted for the back exit. I was sneaking past untrained security guards glued to the T.V. I avoided the receptionist by grabbing the janitor's uniform.

I escaped through the side door reading ‘hospital staff only’.

Pushing past pedestrians I darted to Drahner Rd, the breeze will be there, and that scent will greet me once I’ve arrived; I know it.

The patience of her counsel and the humility of her friendship was to be mine. The tenderness of her cooking, and the feisty nature to protect what was right engulfed my essence.

I’d reached the town’s cemetery entrance as I began to lose steam, a thick mist crept through the metal fence, and a whistling wind passed by.

The sky was covered with gray aggressive clouds, each jockeying for a bigger piece of the atmosphere.

The ground was drowning in fog.

A delicate breeze swished by, frigid and stiff. The scent of torment and depression sat above my nostrils. My eyelids flapped involuntarily, fear had begun to grip my nerves.

I followed the path, bending and curving around the many who rest in their final beds; I grew tired.

Finally taking a seat on such a familiar patch of grass to regroup, I noticed the thick fog starting to wane.

As I started to rise, it smacks me like ten gallons of water bringing reality to the conscience level once again.

It read ‘Here rest a devoted wife, loving daughter, and endearing friend Mrs. Taylor- sobbing uncontrollably, I hugged the tombstone.

“Hello my dear” as the illuminate figure ascended from her grave. Shocked with curiosity I crawled towards the bright silhouette after initially retreating with dread.

“Do you miss my touch?” Unable to muster a single consonant, I nodded in agreement.

“Have you touched another after me” confidently agonized by the harsh fact; I mumbled, “Who could replace you”.

On bended knees with my face sunken into the palms of my hands, I could feel her presence console my weary heart and lighten my heavy shoulders.

“Go, live, love again!” Distraught by the mere substitutes' inability to perform, I shook my head in disagreement.

“Your heart will blacken, and you will lose me” Wide-eyed and alarmed I clamored for a single kiss.

“I can grant this one-time request, yet you must heed my message!” reaching in, her lips rounded and softly approached my quivering body.

A moistened breeze danced over my neck, warm and lasting. The scent fruitful and enduring pulled my life to serene heights. Then I tried to reach out and pull my wife closer; her frail existence evaporated.

Awakened in my worn bed looking for the way to go live and love again, I cursed my life. Soon I’d hear a lovely note vibrating off the walls of my apartment. I ran to the door and placed my ear on its cold surface to decide where it originated from; no dice.

Returning to the kitchen looking to fill my stomach out of necessity, that note had arisen again.

I go to my closet, and as if love could have never been more noticeable, there it sits behind a container marked winter ornaments.

Her harp next to my saxophone, my salvation. It resonated with hope as I reached to pull it from its dusty home, its strings hummed in excitement.

I rejoice jumping to help release the boundless passion boiling over.

“Hello”- the title, a song for the life in need of love. Evelyn my dear, as the chords harmonized; I’d smile playing the progression that allowed her spirit to materialize. The room would gleam with a dazzling delight.

I could see her legs lift in synchronized skill, her waist waved rhythmically to the tempo of my fingers scaling the instrument.

The look in her eyes of pride in my musical ability drove me to play more intricately. The weight of the harp pressed on my shoulder quelled my insides; embracing its gentle nature I flicked the strings to satisfy my love’s steps.

No longer did I need fresh air, I’d grab my harp and call for my dear Evelyn? She’d gladly accept my invitation to dance the night away.

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