Some stories come gently, drifting in and settling on the page. Others stories fight the telling. Tooth and claw, they snarl and bite. I wrestled a wolverine into a cage and left it on your doorstep. I dare you to open it.
Small things add up. They tip the scales no matter how light. Smiles on tiny squares of paper, air in my tires. Kisses tossed from the top of the porch steps. All I can give in return are words and golden promises.
The History of Time
The universe expanded and contracted. Stars were born; stars died. Entire civilizations rose and fell and rose, golden ages giving way to silver and silver to their own slow inevitable decline. All in the few short seconds since your lips left mine.
The steady thump-thump-thump of the watchdog's tail chases me from my dreams. I never sleep unguarded on a full-moon night. But there are dangers, and there are dangers. "I was wondering when you would wake," said the Lady who harrows my heart.
If she asked, I’d pull down the moon for her, climb the slender stair that stretches the length of my longing to pluck it from the sky. But even this well-worn path measures only half the distance between her heart and mine.