The First Letter

He was struggling with his first letter to her. He had strangely

written thousands of letters before. To his mother. To his

seniors and subordinates. No letter left him in loss of words

like it did today. What could be written to her? He had promised

to write in an impulse. For when he was leaving for the

battlefield the day after marrying her, maybe because he had

seen it in her eyes. Tears held back. Worries concealed with a

smile. And a sense of loneliness, A sense of getting lost in a

palace full of unknown people. Truth be said, he didn't know

what to tell his new bride. But what he did was to assure that he

would write to her. For the first time, the sleepless night made

him sit with a pen and paper and scribble. He had never paid

heed to his words or letters before. They usually talked of

politics and his well-being. But she... She was like a poem to his

heart. Gentle, Deep. And mysterious. Reading between the

lines was not easy when it came to her. He had wondered at

times if, at all, marriage was the right decision. The Warrior

could promise very little to his family. Then, watching her, bold

backed her fears with a brave smile he was reassured. She was a

warrior in herself. He respected that. She had not only bound

him to a relationship. She had started ruling his heart.

Unknowingly, he wrote down a poem about distances. He

smiled at it before signing "Yours eternally" and calling the

messenger as dawn broke in the camp.

© Suranya

Meeting Place

Sometimes in the darkest nights, under the bright veil of stars, a dim lamp shone in the room of the gem-studded marble palace. While the Palace slept in silence, no one noticed the gems on the walls, designed to be trees, flowers and shrubs, shine in the light of the lamp like the trees of heaven. It is then that the magic worked in her heart. She would stare at them and imagine how slowly, in the flickering light, they seemed to come alive one by one, swaying in the breeze gently around her. The flowers smelled of a mixture of jasmine, tuberose, and tulips. The shrubs whispered in the wind. In the palace of stones. The imagination made a garden of Eden for the Princess. She sat in a throne under the open sky, surrounded by flowers, forming a canopy over her head. The walls around her, the cold white marble, seemed to have fallen as the wind brought the freshness of the open gardens with it. Once again, the Captive Princess felt free of her chains. Her chains of reality. Somewhere far off in the hills, perhaps she heard a horse neigh. The dream of gardens and fountains broke in dismay. She stared at dawn with a sigh, for the walls rose like a fortress around her again. But this time, someone came running to tell her it wasn't just a dream after all.

"He is here."

Her heart skipped a beat." He is at the vineyards."

The Princess now closed her eyes. In the Eden of her dreams, under the fountain, she found herself sitting on the throne. Beside Him. It was time to finally meet.

© Suranya