Wednesday, May 11, 2011


On the warm sunny day, he walked down the path to the garden, hoping she would be there. They had agreed that no matter what happened, no matter what they experienced, they would reunite. The one place they said they would go was their favorite—a symbol of their love.

They had been torn apart quickly—men ransacked their home, taking her into one vehicle and he was taken to another. They each went their forced separate ways, hoping they would see each other again.

But the war was over, he had survived. He was bruised, battered, and broken, but his spirits were high as he anticipated seeing her beautiful face, feeling her soft skin, and kissing her moist lips.

The sun grew hot in the midday. The sun began to cool come evening. And by the middle of the night, he knew. The coldness of the moon was all he had left to comfort him.