“Have you any idea how far from home you have strayed? Your feet are beyond the threshold and into the night, venting a shadow on the horizon, sick of the cloudy and calm. Just beyond the mat and you turn to watch the door close, for the moment alone you leave your mind in a fantasy of wings and the feathers they stray upon the wind. You are too far from home, and the fantasy has consumed you. At home while a moon rises over a sickly open sky. And when the bird perches and the wings are shielded from the night at last, your mind returns home, but blocks away you have strayed, and between you and home is a chance of death by closed hands, closed hands around pitiful slits of steel. If you have strayed so far, just by looking in my eyes, come on in, into my home, and into my love. In my home I can give you food, and wrap you in warmer darkness than the cold, for in your state, who would compare thee to thy summer night, and by pity conceive what you have lost? No one but me, for I would clothe thee, and covet you in all thoughts of kindness, oh to shelter one so truly beautiful from the night, where fright touches skin and steals colors away.”
“Oh sir would you let me so in, and come from me my love would bound, for a man so sweet to the world deserves so sweet a woman who would be there to provide him the same honey. If in clothing you can clothe me, then in touches I thank you, for not much I have to give. In such a summer night I feel like snow gone to melt, and not like the flowers that adorn a garden so sweetly. If I have forgotten myself, my manners, and my heartiness, remember that you may jog my memory with a loaf of bread, a mug of water, Your eyes yet fill my stomach on their own, and your sweet tongue of words lay upon my mind wet, and my lips are soft for such things…The heart you bear for me…I cannot feel the rain anymore sir…Praise god you have given me warmth…Beyond your door, and so much more, I pray to thee that I disturb nothing with this presence of mine…”
“Not at all miss, I’ve had no company such as this, and such sweet sounds did I need to heed to…Here is to you …Madame your name, your name, a fire to warm me furthermore, you gave me not a name as you came through my door.”
“My name, dear sir? Over wine and sweet things? Over your hand in mine so warming, a touch of your finger rings, small shining crystal dots set in them so…My name dear sir, is Echo…Would you remember me, in drinking tomorrow’s tea, if during the night I go, and do not return?”
“But…Why would you? With a place to be, with tea and food and rest, with care, a lady so pretty, so fair, stay with me…”
Echo stayed the night as a lover, and she went in the night, but not from his bed, and came he with her forever. They rode a chariot to heaven, as the city around them, succumbed to the plague.
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