I wish I could recreate the magic
of her fingers ploughing through my hair, my loyal strands parting ways to
ensconce her slender digits, the embrace of the tuft extending to my arms that
held her legs, as I rested my chin in the cradle of her lap. She refused to be
embarrassed by the moon making a full appearance and staring shamelessly at the
wanton display of amour, or the stars mischievously winking at each other
enjoying the spectacle. We had shut out the universe, seeking refuge in each
other’s irises, content in the world that had formed in the circle of our arms.
The stem cut through the dark
waters and the foxle dipped menacingly lower spraying my senses with ice cold
water, snapping me out of my reverie and washing away the magical moment that
never belonged to me. The miles that my ship left behind the port seemed, but a
lazy drift, compared to the distance that we had sailed apart in the last
couple of months. My voyage now had a destination,
my path a charted course. I was a
brilliant navigator and my eternal friends, the stars never failed me. But how did they fail me at my birth? How is
it that I failed to chart their path, which would have convinced her parents,
that the stars never foretold any calamity that would befall them? It would be
sacrilegious to even assume that the stars would not stand us in good stead,
because they were my only true friends? Many a time, they had held my hand and
guided me to safety when the miracles of technology had failed me. Many a
nights we have spent in each others company, talking about the weather and the
swells of the oceans.
But how were we to know that we
would be such great friends when I was born.
How were they to know that my mother had heralded my arrival and that
they should rally around to welcome their future friend? It is not their fault. I looked at them now, resplendent in their
golden coats, seeking guidance for my current voyage, forgiving them for their
betrayal in my search for a soul mate. I winked back at them, my eyelids
forcing out a tear drop in its effort, my weak smile engaged in replacing
memories with thoughts of a new port.
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