February fourteenth, a day of great expectation!
I awaited his arrival with great optimism.
A golden silk brocade wrapped package arrived . . . without him!
I pulled off the poem, rendered in bold calligraphy.
Each word warmed my heart and brought a rosy blush to my cheeks.
Until I came to the last lines. He caressed my blond hair.
He swam in the deep ultramarine blue of my dear eyes.
Claire, Claire, Claire! he proclaimed. My name was music to his ears!
I crushed the poem to the beating of my raging heart.
My hair is fiery red, my eyes have a turned deadly green.
My name is Valda. I will restore my honor and name.
My broad sword and warrior roots will smite your beating black heart.
My hand strokes the runes
Blessing my blade, point to hilt
Bathed in your red blood.
Marcia A. Borell is a dreamer that likes to give her dreams tangible form. She has published poetry, essays, short stories, and drabbles. Marcia has always lived close to an inland lake. Observing and experiencing the sky, water, land, and seasons have always influenced her writing. She also loves Skeletons.