Now a soft kiss - Aye, by that kiss, I vow an endless bliss.

Now a soft kiss -- Aye, by that kiss, I vow an endless bliss

I cannot see what flowers are at my feet, / Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs.

Where's the face / One would meet in every place? / Where's the voice, however soft, / One would hear so very oft?

I settled on the floor and whispered to Sam, “I want you to listen to me, if you can.” I leaned the side of my face against his ruff and remembered the golden wood he had shown me so long ago. I remembered the way the yellow leaves, the color of Sam’s eyes, fluttered and twisted, crashing butterflies, on their way to the ground. The slender white trunks of the birches, creamy and smooth as human skin. I remembered Sam standing in the middle of the wood, his arms stretched out, a dark, solid form in the dream of the trees. His coming to me, me punching his chest, the soft kiss. I remembered every kiss we’d ever had, and I remembered every time I’d curled in his human arms. I remembered the soft warmth of his breath on the back of my neck while we slept.
I remembered Sam.

Vows made in storms are forgotten in calm.