My Love, My Life

I worship. I wait.

Dark tresses cascade down her forehead as she laughs. She smiles, her brown eyes playful. Her face, filled with happiness, draws us to her.

I adore. I wait.

The evening air is cool refreshment after the burning heat of the day, and her sigh is filled with contentment. Her eyes sparkle like jewels, twinkling with delight, and she reaches for the other. Their hands intertwine. At their feet, an upturned stone stumbles from the path to the lake, startling a turtle into the water.

I sing. I wait.

Her eyes look to the trees, searching for our faerie song. The unseen host dances before them, casting every hope for survival upon her. She sighs and rests her head upon the shoulder of the other.

I wait. I ache.

The nape of her neck beckons to us, and her perfume tantalizes. We draw near. The boldest of us gently strokes her smooth skin. She is our chosen one.

I touch. I love.

Even as our passion begins to swell inside her, will she understand our devotion? Will she know how she completed us, fulfilled our destiny? We give to her all that we can.

I fear. I flee.

The motion of the blow casts me aside, but three of my sisters are crushed. Our song fills with mourning as we watch their broken bodies tumble to the stones below. They will never know joy.

"Darn mosquitoes!" she shouts, swatting again. Still, she is as full of me as I of her.

Our children will live. They will love.

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