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Current mood:love’s divine
Category: Writing and Poetry
HUMOR me, i am feeling romantic today, ha. This is an excerpt from my novel.
The poem "Such Is She" was written by Doran for Eleah, honoring their 10th wedding anniversary. i have included some surrounding text from the chapter: Forth Sooth (book 2: Stolen Breath)
...She undressed, leaving her clothing to lie on the floor of the bathroom. Sighing heavily, once more.. Eleah played her hands over her bareness. How long would it be before the child's presence became evident? Certain changes were evident already.. to her. She ignored the fresh night shift, the sister had left for her on the vanity, and donned only the filmy summer robe. It was very sheer. She wanted very much to forget motherhood, and anger, and feel desirable for her husband.
"What's wrong?" He sat up on the bed, as she entered.
"Nothing I want to talk about now." She relaxed, thinking of the gift she had planned for him. His face softened, and the low glimmer of candlelight sparked his eye as he enjoyed her only garment.
"Good. I have something for you." His voice betrayed some excitement. He had disappeared into the quarter after Wil's, elusively trying to hide this package from her. She bit her lip, as he retrieved the small rectangle from behind a pillow. It was wrapped with brown paper and a red satin bow. "The bow is courtesy of Evora." He tilted his head in admission of his insufficiency; Evora's was the eye for detail.
Eleah sat down. Grinning, she took the package in her lap, weighing it. It was not large, only the length of Doran's hand. It was a book-- that much did not a scholar take. Casting its wrapping aside quickly, Eleah traced the gold leaf lettering with her finger-- Muse-- upon both the black vellum binding and front cover. She carefully opened the book, and read aloud the script embossment upon the first page:
"Verses by Doran Driecayne, for the Muse of Evermore, Lady Eleah of Aurelyss... You did it.."
Eleah held it to her chest, grinning. She had encouraged Doran for years to have his work assembled and printed for the libraries.
"There's just the one copy- for you. I'll not have anyone else reading my heart. It is plain enough to see, as it is." Eleah leaned close to kiss him. It was a wondrous gift; she remembered Evie's promise. She leafed through the finely printed parchment pages. There were at least a hundred poems.
"You are not going to read them all now, are you?" He asked wryly, toying with the edge of her robe.
"No. I want you to read them to me." She laughed. He took the book from her hand.
"Just one. To prepare you for my real present." He raised one brow. She laughed, knowing him much too well, for this brand of seduction. Still, her eye did not resist his chest. She could not deny his fitness. He informed her frequently that other married men tended toward being satisfied with nature's way of thickening them. Doran took great pride in his charms: cropping his hair to look like Dallien's-- it suited him marvelously, but she could not help teasing his vanity. Provoking him to quiet her with assurances like:
'..with a wife so beautiful a man can not afford complacency.'
Who would argue that?
"Such is She.." Doran cleared his throat, drawing her attention.
He then read his latest composition without humor.
"..What art that married word..
paired and parried?
But a poem..
To light on dusky lips..
..dressed with breath so measured..
Deeper ...I inhale
and know her Soul..
And know that words are naught but rhyme..
Not reason.
Still, I wake to embrace her peace.
So welcome, precious..
I take of her: desperately inspired..
My eyes: Her face.
The eternal cadence of her breath..
..and I am breathless for such forever
What man am I to witness..?
(what lips can only know)
Still.. I whisper not, and kiss this page
to save a glimmer of her purity:
Such a poem is She.
And fleet, there her lashes flutter----
..and O that fluent gale..
to shatter peace with her smile's new notion..
..a potion.
From her triumph over quiet comes the swell
of simple Truth: just a song
Her notes are immortal, ever clear.
Still.. I am deaf
Save this rush of Love my heart for swelling feeds mine ear..
Such a melody is She.
What art pleasure..? But a home.
Loose boots upon a lonesome gait,
bear naught, but blister.
..Carry me not to grander scape:
barefoot, I keep my Lady's fair side upon this well-worn path
with her gentle jest to waste my cares:
She talks quietly of days yet waiting..
and I roam this ever constant pace of keeping.
(just keeping still)
So I shall never miss this moment:
that I might aged wake to find her face, for all of Time and again
Words will play in vain to name this Grace.
(what lips can only show)
Such a poem is She.
Such a home is She.."
He closed the book, and met her eye gently, for every true word of it.
Eleah swallowed for that swell he painted so well. He never failed to take her breath. She never tired of it. She wanted all of Time for him. It seemed she had loved this man at least that long. And yet the years had fallen away too quickly. Ten years. She kissed him long. Then deftly pulled away from his advancing hands, taking the book against her chest..
"Thank you. I am so very pleased---" Doran rolled his eye impatiently, scooting closer. She tapped her finger against his nose scolding him.
"Aren't you the least bit curious to know what I have for you?" Her voice was sultry, and as she spoke she reclined, gracefully into the pillows, allowing her robe to fall open... just a bit.
Doran drank her in, tracing the playful slant of her leg, the gentle curve of her belly. He smiled slyly, his eye stalling, captive: full and round.. mindful of the room's chill. She had been a lovely girl, and alluring in all sense. Yet, she had grown only moreso, in time, in wisdom of herself. Her curves were not so firm to the touch, but soft and giving. It pained him not to feel them now. Beneath him. His whisper was hoarse:
"I can only hope.. that you intend to follow Sahbra's mind, and give freely of yourself." He glanced into her eye, meaning it.
She smiled enticingly. "Well, my gift to you, is actually some of your own doing." She let him ponder that. He was not of a mind to think, however, so she halted his advance again. "I mean it.. Doran Driecayne.. I have something to tell you." He straightened, propping himself upon an elbow.
"All right tease, what is it then?" He squinted mocking displeasure. His eyes misted a bit for her indignant smile. Wil was indisputably right, his wife was positively radiant. Her added meals had added nicely. He was lucky.
Eleah smiled a bit-- timid?-- it seemed, and then she fixed his eyes, and ran her hands softly over the curve of her stomach. Doran believed this to be further teasing, for a split moment-- before the reality struck him. He stilled.
"Honest?" He whispered, caution drawing his face. "You are certain?" He grinned like a boy on his birthday, when she nodded. She explained through his laughter and kisses, that she was at least three months heavy, and that it had taken some doing to keep it from him at the Gathering.
"Why?" He asked, frowning plaintively, "Why did you not tell me directly?"
"And have you tiptoe about my bed at the Gathering. I think not!" She chuckled at him, as his eyes filled with consternation.
"I would not have refused you." Clearly he did not understand. Chuckling became laughter, before quiet control was hers again.
"I know, good love.. I know.. I love you." But even in the short space of becoming aware of her condition, he had toned his seduction to boyish giddiness. She sighed: "Happy annisavery." Lightly, quoting their daughter. He laughed.
"I love you too.. you shameful, deceptive..." He laughed, lurching at her, then stopped. "Does this mean I should not.. you know?" He asked her timidly. And she groaned shaking her head in exasperation.
"No! It most certainly does not!" To her surprise he answered,
"Good!" and vigorously rubbed his hair atop her stomach before, laying his beardless face against it- sighing contentedly.
"Thank you." He whispered, and began to tenderly kiss the fullness of her belly.
She moaned rapture, as his kisses began to stray.
©caitlin ann easter
(The Ark of Traeadon, Volume I: Reason, book two: Stolen Breath)
7:44 PM
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