The years had been good to her, very good. She was even more beautiful than I had remember

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The years had been good to her, very good. She was even more beautiful than I had remembered, but the voice had changed. It seemed to have a softer more gentle quality to it. And her manners were more self assured. It had been more than twenty-two years since we had last seen each other, and then under less than favorable conditions. I still remember the provocative sway of her hips as she hurriedly walked away from me, hurt and in tears. We had been lovers. Not in the physical sense, but true lovers; friends, companions, and confidants. Hours seem to vanish when we were together, walking by the lake or riding in the car listening to the radio and making plans for our future. We shared a unity as of being bonded to each others soul. When we held hands a warmth would radiate from her hand to my heart. Young, yes. In love, yes. Foolish, yes; but only me. Fools can be any age, but I more so in my youth. Fear, that had been the culprit. Fear of the unknown, fear of responsibility. Fear stole my lover and replaced her with lust. Robbing us of our love. The seasons passed and we had gone our separate ways, only the lyrics were different. She had found happiness with another and I harbored the guilt of our demise, yes demise. For "we" were dead and "she" and "I" were born. A tree once hewn can not be grafted back into a viable living organism. But a clever craftsman can transform that dead tree into fine furniture, it's beauty fixed forever; magnifying the beauty of the tree. A clever craftsman I was not. So I left the tree to rot. Not because I did not regret felling the tree, but for lack of the craftsman's skill. But the tree prevailed the elements until a craftsman came along who did indeed transform it into a lovely piece of art. As the years passed I often thought of her, us. Was she happy, was she loved, did she ever think of me or had she buried that portion of her life deep in the abyss of her mind never to surface again? Would we have been happy? yes; would we still be lovers? yes. Why had I pushed her away? Love eluded me. Pain and sorrow were my lot; deserved, yes. Success had come and gone. Motivation and desire had also abandoned me. Then she walked back into my life; her provocative hips swaying more radiant and lovely than before. But why? Have I not suffered enough? My heart raced rampant when I saw her, a chill tranversed my soul. But what use is this stirring of emotions; the flicker of a love lost. It took all the restraints of my will not to embrace her and feel the warmth of her body. My voice was quivering as we spoke. Could she hear my heart pounding in my chest? Did I look as faint as I felt? The shivering was not from the cold, it was from fear; the same fear that took her from me.


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