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

And He Hears

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

Burgundy Firework

“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

Artist: Christine Comyn

Footsteps

As she rounds the bend in the trail, Megan feels the cool breeze coming off the lake wash over her – she imagines his touch. Looking at the familiar park bench situated just on the edge of the trail – with its picturesque view of the lakefront through the trees, she pauses and wonders why she puts herself through this emotional torture each Saturday morning.

And yet – as if her legs have a will of their own, they walk her over to the bench – she relents and sits – just like she has done each Saturday for a while. And – seeming to agree with her actions, she hears the rustling of the leaves in their dance with the breeze – as well as a pair of cardinals fluttering from branch to branch – finally settling nearby to join her.

Megan sighs and smiles at the remembered 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 never actually met.

Yet, she knew him – knew things about him that no one else did. And he knew her – knew things about her that 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 – it could be real. But, it was complicated – real life always is she thought.

A slight spray from the lake carried by the breeze brought her momentarily out of her 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 had told her many times, “I will hear you – always … just call my name” – she waited for his response in the breeze. The two cardinals sudden chirping made her smile broaden.

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

The Leaf

Stretching and looking out his window, Peter loses himself in the sway of the branches and the chaotic movements of the leaves as they dance with the breeze. He finds himself following one leaf in particular. At first, he isn’t sure why – but something in the way it moves pulls his eyes to it. It seems to stand out from the other leaves – in a private dance with nature – free from the others.

Then he suddenly realizes … it reminds him of Megan. “Of course”, he says with a smile. With thoughts renewed, Peter returns to his desk and her story – his fingers poised over the keyboard. But instead of starting to immediately write the new ideas forming in his head, he pauses and looks pass the screen to the view outside his window – as the rhythmic dance between the leaves and the breeze continue. Where is that special leaf he wonders – he can’t find it now – it seems to have blended in with the rest.

A red cardinal flies into view and lands in one of the trees. Peter imagines it is his cardinal friend – the same one he sees almost everyday in his backyard. He watches with wonder as his friend hops forward with seeming purpose a few times on the branch as it sways erratically in the breeze. And that’s when he notices – his special leaf – on that branch.

The sight brings him a smile – a sad smile yet – and he tries to return to her story. Not quite yet though – Peter gets up again and walks around his desk to the window. And though it is hot outside today, he decides he needs to open the window – he has to hear the breeze. He smiles as he sees his friend looking towards him and as if in agreement with Peter’s actions, his friend lets out a series of chirps.

Back at his desk, Peter rereads the beginning of her story. As he left her, Megan is sitting on the park bench overlooking the lake from the edge of the trail. She calls out “Good morning Peter – miss you” – her voice carries along the breeze through his open window.

And he hears…

Michael

Artist: Christine Comyn

In Her Eyes

in her eyes, he sees
the magic of their first kiss
as he pulls her close

Michael

Artist: Christine Comyn

In Her Eyes

In her eyes, he sees
A carefree walk through the woods

In her eyes, he sees
The leaves dancing with the breeze

In her eyes, he sees
A pair of cardinals at play in the trees

In her eyes, he sees
Her hand slide into his – sparks

In her eyes, he sees
Strawberries, M&Ms, hearts and stars

In her eyes, he sees
The magic of their first kiss

In her eyes, he sees
His world filled with the possibility of love

In her eyes, he sees
His smile … and hers

Michael

Artist: Christine Comyn

With Each Breath

With each breath
She feels his soft kisses – she smiles as they linger

…

With each breath
She smells him as the sweet aroma of soggy leaves wafting in the air

With each breath
She feels him as the cool breeze that tickles her skin

With each breath
She taste him as the flavor of chocolate and strawberries – hungry for more

With each breath
She hears his voice as the sensual dance of rustling leaves

With each breath
She sees him as the play of shadow and light through the trees

…

With each breath
Thoughts of him flow within her – she smiles as he fills her senses

Michael

Artist: Christine Comyn

Perfect Fit

she folds into … him
the sensation … electric
and the fit … perfect

Michael

Artist: Christine Comyn

Burgundy Fireworks

burgundy … her smile
vibrant colors … her aura
fireworks … for him

Michael

Artist: Christine Comyn

He Thinks…

he smiles inwardly
at moments he wants to share
and … he thinks of her

Michael