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From: miramalin@aol.com (MiraMalin)
Subject: Beyond the windows (M/F romantic)
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A little romance - enjoy repost and take a moment to reflect and have pleasure

                         Beyond the windows of my soul
                          Regard me, choose perfection
                           For within my mind cries out,  
                           Wanting again to be beautiful
                            Embracing your ethereal self,
                               Longing to live beyond.

When a smile rippled on her cheeks, like the moon shine through the shadows of
the trees, the face became hers.  The first time it had happened it had taken
him by surprise.  Quietly, almost furtively he threw glances her way, searching
for that imperceptible opening into her heart, her mind, her desires....those
delights that hid in the lilt of her accent, the swing of her hips as she
walked and in the curve of her sweet thigh.  

The bent and bruised grass would be evidence of his loving dance with her, even
though she would be nowhere to be seen, leaving only the glint in the corner of
his dreams, as he lay there with his eyes closed.  He told himself that when he
reopened them she would be there, quivering at the edge of his reverie, as
twilight thickened to darkness, pierced with stars.  And he would groan with
the nightmare of abandonment and despondency.

She remembered the sound of his voice - puzzled, aggrieved, angered.  She had
put her pillow over her head to blot it out..and she must have drifted off.
The next thing that she could remember was the sound of someone, moving quietly
across the room towards the window, to stare out fitfully, sleeplessly.  

Miramalin 11/98

Her mind swung back to the past, when he had seemed so much more wise and able
to cope than she.  She wanted him back to that time when he had sat by her,
comforting her head as she fought her way out of yet another angry nightmare of
disillusionment.  

Would he stoop to touch her lightly and run his tongue across her lips, in an
unforgettable sensation?  Was it excitement or more than that? A rush of
emotions bubbling up through her, rushing to the surface of her stream to
broaden her life and wear away the scope of her feelings.  And now, here he was
sitting by her again, yet it was she who was crooning softly, while his
nightmare lurked on the threshold of her sleep.

Someone in the room had been her once and never ending nightmare.  Now, he
would often stand at her window. breathing deeply and she would, without
knowing why, pretend to sleep.  If the night were aglow with stars in a
cloudless sky he would pull back the curtains and show present her with those
resplendent jewels, hers forever until morning. Then came the reassuring
whisper: "It's only me."

She started up in sleepy recognition. She could sense his shadow in the
darkness.  The scent of him - warm, agreeable, masculine.  He turned in the
window - in the moonlight and stood there - a still life.  She wanted to
sympathise with his evident misery and patted the side of the bed offering him
a seat.

She felt it would be nice to have him...sitting there, taking her into his
confidence.  A conspiracy to break the silence with eager whispers - a midnight
feast of exchanged secrets.  then he would sigh and ask her to kiss him. when
she pout her arm around his neck, his cheek would feel wet with tears, leaving
her feeling maternal and warm and safe against him....drifting back to sleep,
into a sweet dream where she floated, light as stardust, through his universe,
her arms and legs, spread as a soft warm meteor shower coursing through him -
feeling, swooning and pulsing through an eternity of space.

Miramalin 11/98


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