by Susan Vermeulen
She opened her eyes, one after the other. Touching her lips she winced and went scarlet; pain, discomfort, embarrassment?
Terrible things happen in life, no one would, or let’s say no one should want them to occur but they simply do; they stick out, poke their way in, arrive from the blue. There is always someone who is responsible, who refuses to own up, to apologise. Sorry is a tiny word but it’s a beautiful colour and smells breathtaking.
The night stuck out, there it was, all around her and didn’t look like coming to an end. Sighing she shut her eyes this time and made everything into a wonderland.
He arrived on a stallion, disturbing the soaring bird, looking splendid, regal, in control. His expression said it all, he was suddenly at her feet, head down, imploring, without words begging for forgiveness with his presence, his attitude; then it was happening, they were together again. He could finger her damaged lips and she loved the sensation, her emerging smile brought the story to an end. The smile would stay, not on the lips perhaps but inside, she would definitely endeavour not to let it get away; a smile, sorry, they say it all. Even soaring birds shouldn’t pose a threat but who can say what a shadow conceals.