SIX WORDS Fridays ~ Story

The Prologue
I remember it with yesterday’s clarity…
He arrived, tall and brown skinned.
His chariot was white and glistened.
And he, nervously clutching a corsage,
stepped strangely confident toward my dad.
(He’d met him countless times before.)
***
Every Saturday in the dewy morning,
he’d arrive, ambitious. Ready to work.
A writer - like me- and photographer
(like I’ve become) with foreshadowing vision.
I loved him, my D.eviant C.hoice –
this student of the city streets.
And I, the sheltered suburban kid.
I didn’t inquire about his past,
never thought much about our future.
He was my rebellion, differently raised.
Intelligent and strong with romantic core,
nothing like boys I’d known before.
I savored his devoted sweet words -
each carefully handwritten – my mailbox surprises.
Confessions, professions, he shared them all.
And I swooned, but remained aloof.
***
We’d plotted and planned our rendezvous;
meticulously coordinated this reuniting. It arrived.
Whisked away to our formal dance
in blur of white against night,
we held hands alone, cherishing time.
(Like the precious nights that summer
spent listening as Elton sung circles
around us, lulling us to sleep.)
Our hearts beat in strong unison,
and youth's purity had defined us.
All that mattered was being together
until that faithful sunrise separated us.

Distance and youth destroyed us then.
Wisely, he let me explore without.
A decade's divergent paths we’d lived.
(yet he’d inscribed himself in memory)
Heartache and heartbreak, parts of life;
survived and learned strength through all.
(while echoes of him still sounded -
remnants of that kingly serenade reminding
with him there were “no worries”)

Such was our exposition long ago.
It would not be a story
If there weren’t a rising action:
those little complications pressing us forward.
And somehow what was once separated
has circled back and now converged.

{It's story time this week with Six Word Fridays}