Will U be my Valentine?

She awoke in the middle of the night and sat by herself. She saw the moonlight that streamed in through the window lying besides her. Like a lover it lay peacefully. Unmoved and untroubled by her presence and only in silence conscious of her sweet presence. Suddenly, a strong gust of cold winter wind came in through the window and tapped the memories of her past that slept in her soul…

She wondered if today had been a dream. For today she had seen him again after six years. In these years she had dreamt of him almost each night and each morning had brought to her the same revelation that he was not there. Sometimes she would dream that he had left with no reason and now come back. Sometimes that he had been lost in a crowd of men and some friend had found him and brought him back home. At other times that he had been hiding from the world and become a recluse for some mortal sin he had committed but had finally come home to rest his head on her bosom and weep… She saw him singing in the city nightclub today. He was singing beautifully. She had been drinking in the club and did not let him know of her presence. She thought if he had changed. But if he had changed why had she not? After all they had come together in love. She had not loved him alone. He had loved her equally.

His singing today had reminded her of their lovemaking. He was just as tender in bed as he was—as he would put it—when making love to his audience with his voice. She had men after he left him. But they could not know nor honor in her, her deeply mystical femininity. They had made love to her only to satiate their own selves. Only he had ever truly known her and in the complete knowledge of the truth of her soul had made love to her with a gentle passion. His masculine kindness and gentle understanding had broken her heart and she had wept tears of pure joy and she had known that she belonged to only him.

The silvery moonlight resting on her bed recollected her of the veils of silence that they had together drawn between them lest they touch with their fingers the mystical and symmetrical beauty of their lovemaking and soil it. Only intuitively they had recognized the other person's needs and only silently had they sought to answer it and satiate it. And it was this silvery cord of mutual empathy that had the golden beads of promises of an eternal love.

She switched on the night-lamp; picked her diary and opening the page to 14^th February, started writing.

For long have you tortured my body and soul. And for long have I waited. No more will I. Let us offer ourselves to Love again. Will you be my Valentine?

She stopped writing and put the diary beneath her pillow. And snuggling against the bed sheet she tried to sleep. Suddenly, the doorbell rang and woke her up. She did the mechanical motion of picking her body from her bed and started for the door. She had left herself in her bed.

"Come on ................", it was a whisper, which she barely heard. But she had looked in his eyes and understood. She got on ................ and ....................... her. They held hands and her tears fell on her cheeks and trickled on her......... Like two gentle souls unruffled by the futility of the world and existing in a world of their own they danced to a slow rhythm. Mystery pervaded their whole existence and like the gentle silvery moonlight rested just besides them.

Mr.H