As children we had sat in the crook of a tree, held hands, made vows, sealed them with innocent kisses.
Soon after fate decreed, oh you fickle gods, that our families move apart – hers to China, mine to the prairies in Argentina. And later our families and those gods moved us to vow, oh false vows, to others, and so it was.
Now, fifty years on, with the gods tamed, we have found each other and will meet.
I am first in the room. I sense beauty, energy, joy.
Outside, I hear the slide of silk slipper on polished stone.
Written in response to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ weekly 100 word photo prompt challenge. I dare you!