“Renée, will you marry me?”… “I can not. My heart once yours, given to another by love’s decree. My heart now belonging to her.”
Love in the first degree…
A chance encounter or destiny, they sometimes pause to wonder. Maria spotting Renée across a smokey room filled with invisible strangers.
Forgetting to exhale, green eyes entreating grey. Unforeseen, fueled by foreign desire, their union unsung. A choice yet to weigh, body and soul on fire.
Hands shaken by an innocent question, two lovers postured in wait. An overdue decision in summation with three fates at stake, tasked all three with want or expectation.
One lover wanting to wed. The other imploring his dissolution. External expectations waiting for bed.
Renée, an only child to whom all dreams have been tethered.
Landon, the requisite groom possessing a charm oft admired.
His question, the culmination of dread.
Entrusted hearts beating ever softly, nestled gently in hands of lead, thrumming quietly to love’s symphony…
Maria’s smile a painter’s muse, a young poet’s fevered sonnet. Lips emblazoned by passion’s dew after a long smoldering sunset –
Awakening Renée from prescribed stupor, breathing life into lifeless limbs.
Society’s outdated prescription numbing her, poison seeping slowly toward emotion’s eclipse…
Maria, long freed from constraint, leading the way to love’s salvation.
One path, one future to paint with steadied hands in celebration.
One song with a single beat.
At last, expectations put to bed,
cover cast off in summer’s heat.
Released from slumber, heaven in its stead.
© 2016 Brenda Baker