By Brian K. Bolen
We see each other daily, but I’m not allowed to approach him.
He begins playing a wooden flute; his sound connects with my soul.
I sway and tap on my hand drum; our sounds join as one.
More people arrive; dancing ensues.
We play till the sun goes down, sweaty, exhausted, but satisfied.
He lowers his flute, beckoning me to join him. I take a step closer and freeze.
“No one crosses the border, missy,” the soulless guard says.
“Tomorrow?” I ask him.
He nods. “I’ll be here.”
I leave knowing we will be together someday, our music binding us forever.
In the excitement of music love is born, and remains eternal. Beautiful sweet story. Smooth as silk too. Hope the writer sends in more for the hope of love this story awakened in me.
Haunting, poetic quality. Very nice.
I really like the odd, dystopian slant to this. It blends seamlessly with the vibe of a drum circle in an urban park, and their combined effect is quite beautiful.
Bittersweet and hopeful! Lovely story!