The letter

By Orianda_man

THE LETTER
BY R.S.B.S



Dear friend ,
Words are hard to put together. Sometimes they can fall right in place, but other times they just seem to fall to peices. Days go by and I sit in my window seat and watch the birds fly outside. I think about all the things I would like to say and cant. It is said, you need to express your feelings and not keep them bottled up inside.Maybe one is afraid of scaring the other person away or even losing their friendship or maybe their own self respect.

Why are certain people in our lives? There is always a reason. When I look at you I see so many wonderful things. This is what i see.
I find myself walking through two large iron gates covered with clematis vines
in full bloom. In front of me is a garden of radiant and beautiful flowers. I hear sounds over my left shoulder where a small bird is singing its heart out up in a weeping cherry tree full of light pink blooms. Over my right shoulder a soft whispering wind is blowing through the branches of a willow tree. I walk on down the garden path smelling the heavy fragance of roses in the air. Just ahead of me is a small white gate with an arched trellis over it which is covered with bright yellow roses. There is a mist in the interior garden. Just ahead of me is a pool full of lily pads with big white and yellow blossoms and through the mist across the pool I see a large white swan swiming toward me Her large wings seem to brush the water and make a sound like a chime from a crystal glass. As the swan reaches the bank , she turns away and floats toward the other side of the pool. In the mist I see someone stepping off the back of the swan and onto the opposite bank.
The ground below my feet is a deep , deep green carpet of moss soft to the touch. I take off my shoes and walk to the other side pool. The mist has cleared and the sun fills this side of the garden. To my right is a fountain with water spilling over its edge and sending a soft spray against my face. From the left, beyond a row of hollyhocks comes the sweet smell of lilacs and right in front of me is a small white gazebo with pink azaleas all around the front and sides. Perched up on the roof are to white doves and on a swing in the middle of the gazebo is a young women swinging slowly, her hair blowing with the gentle breeze. Her cheeks seem to have a pink glow and she looks dreamily into the garden. In one hand she is holding a white dove. I make a slight move and the dove takes flight up into the blue sky. I look down into my hands and there is a white box with a blue velvet ribbon around it. i step up into the gazebo and hand the box to the young women on the swing. She slowly removes the blue velvet ribbon from the box, lifts off the lid, stands up and steps out of the gazebo onto the moss. She gently places the box on the ground and steps back. Slowly two large wings start to unfold out of the inside of the box. It is a huge butterfly full of the most beautiful colors you could imagine. We both climb onto the back of the butterfly and it gently lifts off the ground. We find ourselves soaring over the tops of flowers and under the branches of the willow and round and round the garden , laughing a laugh you might make if you were in a small child and someone was tickling you. Then the butterfly lands on the side of stone wall and we step off to find ourselves on the inside of a huge catherdral. Right before our eyes what we thought to be a butterfly is instead a stained glass window with the majestic colors which were in the butterfly. The sun , coming through the window, is so warm and and all around us the colors seem to dance on the walls and floor of the cathedral. Someone is softly playing the Pachelbel Cannon on the organ. We find ourselves dancing slowly across the black and white checkered floor. Looking at the smile of the young women makes you feel as if you had been touched by all the angels in heaven. Just then we find ourselves at the bottom of a long stairway. The young women starts up the stairs, turns around, and smiles and with a soft voice says, "Thank you for a wonderful day", and turns away. She seems to fade into the colors coming from the stained glass windows. Then I find myself sitting back in my window seat writing to you . What seemed like hours was perhaps a few minutes of writing. In every heart there is a space and the only one who knows that space is you . When you meet someone , you dont know who they are or what they are thinking. You must find their heart and meet their mind and their innermost thoughts,
then you must find their spirit. Do we ever really know someone? The only way is to give that person a chance reach out and share.


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The letter

Created: Jul 30, 2010

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