When a man loves something with all his heart, he lives it, and it consumes him.
His fingers brushed down my bare thigh, a touch both sensual and teasing. I felt it most in my spine…
It was a slow, rhythmic stroke; hypnotic, in a way.
He plucked a flower from the meadow and wound it through my hair. He made a crown for me, his queen, each flower woven there. When he left, he took my crown; he told me, “Luck it brings,” My heart lives in that meadow still, now this queen has lost her king. . Today’s daily WordPress prompt is Simple. And thanks to Jade M. Wong, I’m feeling a little romantic. But… Read More