Tales From The Mind of Thomas

A worn, bent, faded picture is held firmly with tender care in the grasp of a calloused finger. Long, deep breaths of remembrance are drawn in, filling the lungs with fervor—eyes filled with hiraeth, locked into a long, anchored stare. A heart brimmed with ardor; a love separated by vast distance. A woman with chestnut brown hair reminiscent of cascading autumn leaves, cool soft fair skin like clouds during winter, lips full and tender, a shade of pink akin to the earliest of blooming flowers in spring, and eyes of grass during summer, stares back at him. A smile warm enough to melt the ice of a frozen tundra and bright enough to shed light into thousands of the darkest nights.

The beholder recollected back to the day. A warm summer evening, birds passionately chirping, clouds meandering across the sky, while a cooling breeze floats through the air. She sits against the side face of the hill, purple mountains standing guard miles away in the distance. The soft flowing breeze gently rustles her hair, the warm sun bathes her skin with vibrant hues of gold. Her smile even outshines the sun. One cannot help but stare in awe at her natural grace. She turns her head, her eyes, vibrant emeralds, lock with the eyes of her partner. She nods towards the camera, inviting a picture to be captured. With the camera raised, her smile perfects itself, her nose scrunches before the camera snaps a photo. The camera rolls out a photograph, revealing a masterpiece—one worthy of being framed in an art gallery.

The beholder, lost in the sweet memories of cherished love, as time slowly marches on. With the heart, renewed, the photograph subtle guide, gently concealed back in the left breast pocket, placed over the heart where their love belongs. As a silent promise of return, cemented by love, is still kept.