A STORY. 94. HOT CHOCOLATE AND LOVE POETRY

It takes you a while to get to the second-hand bookstore because, on the way there, you notice a small cafe with lace curtains on the windows. It looks warm and welcoming, and you’re a bit chilly from two hours outside, doing your first ever parking lot blitz in the first snow of the season.

You go in. A few tables. And hot chocolate on the menu. A winter favorite. You know this snow will melt. It’s too early for snow to stay. But it feels like winter.

You sip the hot chocolate slowly. You’re silent.

Then, hot chocolate warming you from within, you set out, ready for another taste of love poetry. You feel . . . excitement - yes, that’s it, excitement. You have no idea why.

Soon you’re at the old second-hand bookstore. The sign hanging from the doorknob says OPEN. You turn the doorknob and open the door. Like every time, there’s a tinkle from the little bell above the door. You enter. It’s warm inside. You immediately close the door. The indoor light is cozy, unlike the grey light outside.

You make your way to the nook, sit down in the comfortable armchair, feel yourself relax. In a few moments, you reach for Love Poems for You: The Touch of Love.

You open it.

You turn the page to see what’s after Is Love Obsolete.

I Welcome Love. You like the sound of that.

You turn to the page.

love comes, love goes. Those words bring you to a stop. Such light words. I welcome love, wave a warm hello. And then, love comes, love goes. The words are still light. There’s no gnashing of teeth. But you stop. You don’t know what you expected. But it isn’t love going.

The words continue.

There it is again, love comes, love goes. And again, everything so very light.

You like the words about the flame that does not burn but warms the heart body soul. But love coming and going - that does not warm the heart body soul.

You sigh. Over and over, love goes.

Still you continue. You’re almost at the end.

A warm love that stays and grows. You like the sound of that.

You remember love fading. The last words of the first poem come back to you.

You agree with that.

You wonder. Do you welcome love? And then, how does one welcome love anyway? You’re not about to wave a random warm hello. As for taking part in the dance of love, the game of love . . . The dance of love? The game of love?

To be continued . . .
A STORY. 95. THE WARMTH WITHIN
https://elsaiselsa.substack.com/p/a-story-95-the-warmth-within

A STORY. ALL THE CHAPTERS ... UP TO NOW
https://elsaiselsa.substack.com/p/a-story-table-of-contents-up-to-now

Posted Nov 25, 2024