Wrapped up in the kindling
he’d gathered for the fire
were several small flowers.
Really, she thought to ask, for me?
But chose instead not to speak.
For the thought of his thought
made her suddenly weak —
nearly, too weak to breathe.
Wrapped up in the kindling
he’d gathered for the fire
were several small flowers.
Really, she thought to ask, for me?
But chose instead not to speak.
For the thought of his thought
made her suddenly weak —
nearly, too weak to breathe.