A STORY. 95. THE WARMTH WITHIN

The next poem wasn’t like Is Love Obsolete. And it wasn’t like I Welcome Love.

It was not about love like a god to revere nor like an old drunk, unkempt. It was no longer love peering out from behind an Etruscan casket nor love going as often as it came.

The title was soft. The Warmth Within.

You turned to the page and started reading.

You pause. Everything inside you has slowed.

You take a quiet breath.

You go back to the beggining of the poem and take in the words again.

You take a very deep breath, more like a sigh than a breath.

You continue.

Once again, you pause.

And then again, you continue.

The warmth within. And that other warmth. The warmth of touch. You remember the subtitle of the book. The Touch of Love.

The warmth within. . .

There you are, in the rather rundown second hand bookstore, in the comfortable old armchair, and at the same time, . . .

To be continued . . .
A STORY. 96. LET ME FEEL MY DEAR
https://elsaiselsa.substack.com/p/a-story-96-let-me-feel-my-dear

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

Posted Dec 2, 2024