she snuggled into him,
resting her head in the nook of his shoulder,
finding it was made just for her
here, her soul was at rest,
a rest she hadn’t ever known before,
and closing her eyes,
she savored
the way his palm delicately glided over her curls,
fingers grasping in silky handfuls and lifting,
each individual strand falling to a goose-fleshed tickle against her back
the whispered words, warm against her cheek,
swelling her heart and causing her lip to quiver,
the gentleness of his soft lips against her forehead,
and arms which drew her so close,
she could no longer tell where he ended
and she began
she couldn’t imagine ever forgetting –
she wanted to preserve each breath as she breathed it,
every feeling as it overtook her
scooping each fluttering second into an old pickle jar,
she filled it to the rim,
illuminating like a warm summer night’s fireflies
alive,
and forever lighting
the way home
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Amazing, Angela. I love the images here!
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Thank you, Eric. 💜
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So very beautiful.
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Thank you, Rayne. 💜
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To find a woman to describe such a scene about me would be a magical thing indeed. To be a man who could inspire such a description, even better. Beautiful!
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I wish that for you, Ward! Thank you. 💜
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That is a powerful spell. Thank you for using it on me. 🙂
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So dreamy! Love this!
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Thank you, Meg. 💜
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Gorgeous ❤️
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Thank you, Rita. 💜
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Finding a place where your soul is at rest is a magical place to be…..beautifully written Angela.
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It is! Thank you, Michael. 💜
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Absolutely beautiful.
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Thank you, Robin. 💜
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Wow, this sounds so magical.
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Thank you, Magarisa!😜
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My pleasure, Angela! 😊
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