The Fisherman

The candles light dances on the table, the rain gently drummed on the roof. A breeze could be felt, the leafs swayed. The glow of the light illuminated her face, her golden hair moved with the wind. She began to tell me a story, about a fisherman and his soul. The falling out, the love, the heartbreak. As she spoke, I looked into her eyes, her voice was low, as to be whispering the story into my ear. Each word contained the meaning of life, each sentence was justification for existence. She never looked at me as she spoke, with her eyes focused on the dancing light she told the story. I closed my eye, picturing it all, being there as he cut his soul loose. Her voice, the most beautiful thing on earth had me in a trance. I hanged on each word, as if it were her last. I was in a far off land, with her voice as my guide, telling me this beautiful fable. But alas, it had to end. But I hope, when I sleep, I will dream of her, the fisherman, the mermaid and her voice, as my blanket and guide to the night.