In Dreams

by

Morfinwen

He turned and tossed in the high-bowered bed, mindful of the empty hollow beside him. It is still warm, he imagined, and it was only a while ago when she left.

She did, but did not return.

The wind blew, caressing the silken curtains of summertime. The windows, high and wide, opened to crickets and moonlight.

Still, he dreamt of her, her warm hands and her corn silk hair, of the lift of her smile and the softness of her skin. He dreamt of her riding, the sun and the wind and the grass and the fragrance of the just-fallen rain. He did not forget her, after so many years, and kept vigil every night, for her to return in his dreams.

And perhaps, he would find solace once more, in her arms, away from the shadow that he is when the sun rises.