Artist: Christine Comyn

A Certain Touch

A sudden fluttering sound followed by a flash of red catches his attention. Dylan looks up from his writing and searches for his friend. Momentarily distracted from his words, he feels the cool breeze wash over him through the open window as he looks for movement. “Ah, there you are Chase” he says as he spots his red cardinal friend hopping along the ground at the edge of the bushes.

As if hearing Dylan, Chase quickly tilts his head towards the open window – but, seemingly on alert. ‘Hmm – there’s something different about you today’ Dylan catches himself thinking. Before he is able to finish the thought, he tries to register a new flash of red – and the blur of two red cardinals darting in and out of the bushes – in an aggressive game of tag. “Ah, so that wasn’t Chase” Dylan smiles to himself as they disappear into the woods.

As Dylan returns to his writing, an unanswered question teases his mind, “Hmm, how did I know something was different with that red cardinal?” He silently laughs to himself as the rational parts of him lay out possible reasons. His crown was slightly darker than Chase’s – he tilted his head differently – his feet seemed shorter – his… The other parts of him simply smile within at the futility to apply logic – he just knew … that was all.

Feeling his mind come back into focus, Dylan looks at the writing on the paper. He reads the three new paragraphs just written by him, and yet not. They are his words – the style unmistakably his. Yet, he doesn’t remember writing them. He traces his fingers over the letters on the page. Yes, they feel right – given the situation – a certain touch of sadness.

Another distinctive flutter of wings catches his ears. Dylan looks up to the spot he knew she’d be – and there she was. Hope sits in her usual branch in the oak tree just outside his window – a casual air about her. More than once he wondered if Nicole would return to him as Hope always did for Chase. “And … did Hope just smile at me?’ Dylan shakes his head in amusement. ‘Ok – back to my writing’ he says wistfully.

His mind drifts back into the last words on the page. ‘Hmm – what comes next?” he wonders. A mischievous breeze flows in through the window and plays with the loose pages he set to the side earlier. He reacts quickly to catch them before they blow off his desk. The words ‘and … he thinks of her’ come into view. ‘Yes, of course – it fits”, he sighs.

Michael

Artist: Christine Comyn

Thoughts of Him

finger to her lips
she stares out of her window
lost in thoughts of him

Michael

Artist: Christine Comyn

A Breath Away

With her back to the open bedroom window, Kristen felt the warm summer breeze wash over her exposed shoulder. She stood motionless for several moments – waiting for something – not quite sure what. The breeze seemed to stir her thoughts – almost carry them away. She felt herself struggle to hang on to them – distant thoughts of him.

She wondered ‘does he feel me wearing ‘the’ red dress – my left shoulder exposed just so – at this very moment?’ She smiled sadly at the thought – at the game they played. He’d guess what color dress she would wear for him that day. Somehow he always seemed to know. She knew this particular dress was his favorite – and even though black was typically her preference, it had become hers too.

For some reason Kristen decided to wear it today – after storing it away for so long. It almost felt like he had selected the dress for her – a premonition perhaps? She resisted the urge to turn around – to look out the window, expecting to see him coming up the path – as he had so many times before. She felt a deep sigh escape her.

As if awakening for a moment, the open box at the foot of her bed came into focus. The clothes – his clothes folded neatly inside. She tried to remember why she had pulled the box out of the closet. And then it came back to her.

Another breath of air teased the surface of her shoulder. She instinctively shivered from the sensation of his touch. Her fingers traced along the outline of her shoulder – where his lips would be. His words played in her mind ‘I’m just a breath away, my love – always.’ She didn’t notice the first tear…

Michael

Artist: Christine Comyn

A Breath Away

the air – electric
she feels him – close, yet so far
just a breath away

Michael

Artist: Christine Comyn

Unspoken Promises

She languidly reclines back
Hands wrap around her knees
Relaxes – lets her mind drift

Her bedroom window open
A soft cool breeze flows in

Carries unspoken promises
Teases the surface of her skin

She thinks of his touch
She smiles that he knows

Michael

Artist: Christine Comyn

Shadow and Light

In a dance with shadow and light
His angel flows in and out of his vision

Breathless, he dares not blink
She, a fleeting glimpse of the ethereal

Michael

Artist: Christine Comyn

A Breath Away

A breath away
His touch hangs in the air

She feels him
So close, yet so far

She smiles with anticipation
Waiting

Michael

Artist: Christine Comyn

With Each Breath

With each breath
Thoughts of him flow

She feels him on her skin
His touch lingers … still

She smiles that he knows

Michael

Artist: Christine Comyn

Footsteps

As she rounds the bend, Megan slows her pace to let the cool breeze coming off the lake wash over her. She smiles at the thought of his touch – a sad smile still. Looking at the familiar park bench situated along the edge of the trail – with its picturesque view of the lakefront through the trees, she pauses … wonders why she puts herself through this emotional torture each Saturday morning.

And yet – she is drawn to their bench – yes, their bench – she relents and sits – as she has done each Saturday for a while. As if agreeing with her actions, she hears the rustling of the leaves in a dance with the breeze … as well as a pair of cardinals fluttering from branch to branch – settling nearby to join her.

Megan sighs … smiles as she remembers conversations with Peter. “This is a fairytale”, she told him several times. After all, it was the only way she could describe how perfectly irrational their relationship was. “Could it even be described as a relationship?” she wondered – more than once. They had never really met.

And yet … she knew him – knew things about him no one else did. And he knew her – knew things about her no one else did. There was a connection … deeper than physical – she knew it – she felt it. Yes … this was a relationship she decided. And there were certain moments when she dared to believe it could be more. But, it was complicated –life always is she thought.

A slight spray from the lake carried by the breeze brought her momentarily out of her drifting thoughts. Megan brightened and smiled – it was Peter of course. And without thinking she said – as she always did when sitting on this bench, “Good morning Peter – miss you.” And as he told her many times, “I hear you – always … just call me”. She waited for his response in the breeze. Her two cardinal friends sudden chirping made her smile broaden.

But, it was the oddly familiar voice in the distance and footsteps approaching the bend that caught her breath … did she really just hear someone whisper her name?

Michael

Artist: Christine Comyn

Defiance

“A blaze of defiance”, Peter said as he wrapped his arms around her from behind. “Peter…” Kristen let the words trail as she felt his kiss along her neck. She instinctively folded into him – her hands sliding naturally over his. How did he always manage to make her feel like … like what? She tried to grasp the word to describe how he made her feel – like home, perhaps.

“The last leaf – burgundy – hanging defiantly on our elm tree”, Peter continued. “She just doesn’t want to leave the comfort of her tree” Kristen floated out. Peter squeezed Kristen slightly more as he said “Yes … I can understand that – and perhaps the tree doesn’t want her to leave as well”.

They stood together looking out of their kitchen window into the backyard. The ground was blanketed in white from the late night snowfall. Peter noted the snow seemed to mute the sound and colors of the backyard. The single exception was the lone burgundy leaf.

“Do you think the leaf will stay?” Kristen suddenly asked.

He could feel the weight of her question – the hidden complexity. He knew he should answer, but the words would not come. An invisible force held them back. She turned into him – her eyes holding his. “Could she see what he wanted to tell her?” he wondered. She said nothing for a few moments and then slowly turned back in his arms.

They watched in silence as the leaf held fast to her branch. All Peter could do was hold on to Kristen as tight as possible.

Michael