they fell together, arms around each other falling effortlessly, they were in love.

he knelt down in a field of golden yellow and red flowers and kissed her hand promising to love her forever and he never did stop.

he caressed her black hair and laid it gently besides her rosy face as he laid next to her and he loved her.

she washed his strong body and spoke to him in whispers and tears that she would never stop loving him and they embraced in a field of flowers, underneath a wooden bridge at a rivers edge glowing in the moonlight filtered by clouds, on a distant hill underneath an old tree bearing a bitter-sweet fruit, far, far away from everyone and their voices.

they were a forbidden love.

they turned to nature were they were not judged and could run free.

as time wore on, their love grew stronger and they knew that neither time nor any living person could bring them apart, but it was death, death itself and the occurrences of happenings that they could not control and had never imagined.

she did not attend his funeral when he passed away suddenly on a golden morning.

she laid in the field of flowers that day, underneath that bridge by the water edge and on that distant hill, she was in all places at once and those tears, oh those tears flooded and inundated these places that now appeared solely in memory, a memory of the past, because without him these places were empty and quiet to her, desolate and cold to her, she wandered aimlessly searching for a way to recapture what they had experienced in these places as a way to get closer to him, but it was now impossible, she ran and ran and stumbled to the ground and remembered how he was always there to catch her but this time, she hit the dusty grey and brown mud with a thud and then silence.

what was once a sparkling river teaming with life, a waters edge bubbling with excitement was now a stagnant pool of water carrying dead dry leaves and eroded soil.

a hilltop with a colorful tree, fruit bearing and shimmering in the sunlight now sat motionless, its trunk a weathered grey and what leaves it had left were dead or dying and brittle.

the field of flowers simply a field.

time passed and life passed at a staggering rate, the moon and the sun gave no pause to her sadness and gave no ease to her void.
many a night she would lay in a light sleep and whisper "why did you leave me. . . ".

she slept when she could and sometimes he would visit her as she dreamed, but she hated this because as happy as she was while dreaming, when she awoke and realized that it was a dream, the pain was multiplied. She would think, "to have you so near as if i could touch you again to only have it whisked away by a loud sound or some sensation that awakens me is unbearable."

and so it was.

she never did stop loving him from afar, endlessly pursuing imagination to turn back time and gaze upon his face again, to let their eyes lock in the way they did when they first met.

sometimes rage, anger, sometimes sadness and sometimes happiness would overcome her, but she held on to her love for him because she knew, he loved her always and forever, and that love could overcome death, she could feel it while sitting alone drinking tea, or letting the wind breeze through her hair, letting herself gaze upon the horizon again, and lifting her aged body from bed every morning, to let the tree bear fruit once again, and to let the river run.

on a bright golden morning, she passed on effortlessly, without a fight, as if longing for death, she did not put up a struggle or resist and her face finally showed that she was at peace.

her funeral was very simple and quiet, with tears and whispers under a cloudy sky she was hushed away as the last bit of earth was shoveled over her shallow grave.

y el silencio, la solitud y la oscuridad acariciaron el sueno y los labios del recien nacido, palido en la luz de la luna, ojos negros y profundos, la lluvia cayo como disparos de las nubes, el techo, las ventanas, la reja y la puerta como gigantes en la noche, sus sombras creando monstruos en la oscuridad de la casa, en sus pasillos y rincones, en su tranquilidad, padres, tios y primos como arboles en el patio lejanos y misteriosos, cubiertos por la lluvia y la tristeza de la lejania, mientras el nino, este nino palido, seguia dormiendo y respirando en la profundidad de un sueno que nunca iba contar