Lost Art of Love

  The sun looked on the pleasant greenery that loved to brighten the day of any passerby. The touch of the cold breeze captivated the leaves waiting for butterflies or colorful robins to sing with them. The smell of oak filled the cloudless, blue air enriching the birds and animals making this tall tree their tent. The shade from the tree protected the animals from the sizzling heat, yet warmed the hearts of robins and squirrels to play under the shadow's shelter. The working squirrels tasted the fresh, cool water from a nearby pond that loved to entertain dragonflies and frogs. The singing robins harmonized with the frogs in a chorus of music while the butterflies and dragonflies danced to their melodies: it was paradise.

The smell of fresh cut grass surrounded the tree as the symphony of moos moved the shadow of the oak backwards like a sun dial. I guess the mooers didn't get enough to eat, so they moved heaven and earth for the taste of sweet grass. You could tell it was spring; for, in the distance, were blooming colorful flowers waiting for bees to make sweet love for good nectar. Only the queen would love honey this good. The feeling of grass between the mooer's toes gave him a comical smile daring to lay down on it to sooth his joints. The world within this white fenced of this lively farm could woo any passerby with its lovely sights and sounds and smells and tastes: here, you could taste the goodness of God.

The fence showed the way toward a house made of ancient oak-- of which the one remaining stood as a memorial to her ancestor's gifts to the farm. The house was decent sized: not too big and not too small, but just right. The hard oak would resist any weather condition whether rain, snow, or shine thanks to the strong, loyal foundation. You could see the mountains in the far distance covered with snow peaks that seemed to tower over this humble abode made by love. It was one story tall and full of legends, and had a screen door that opened and closed with every wind of doctrine. The house had windows with colorful curtains inside to give privacy to all the lovemaking. You could tell there was a storm shelter underneath the house covered with two wooden doors that led downstairs to the shelter filled with food and supplies—in case of tornado or nuclear holocaust—you choose. Next to the house was an empty garage covered with blue lining on the sides while centered with a white garage door that could fit a nice truck or car, or in this economy, a bicycle., On the other side of the house was a rotting, large wooden barn house filled with tools, hay, a broken down tractor, and for your Chuck Norris fans, a bag for kickboxing: yea, he likes to kick the earth off its axis.

A brown truck as long as lumber of the tallest oak drove on a paved street to turn into the farm's dirt driveway stopping just short of touching the garage door with the truck's solid, silver bumper. The driver door opened to reveal a leg trying to step out to dirty its blue jeans than another leg and soon a whole human being wearing a crop top and a tan cowboy hat that showed herself to the world. Yep, you don't need social media to show the flowery beauty of a hard-working cowgirl whose fit and curvy. She must be Beyonce! Just saying. However, the cowgirl closed the door to the truck, and stood there like she was a single lady: all the single ladies. Maybe, she is Beyonce. She stood there listening to the melodies all around her. The mooers, the frogs, the robins, the squirrels, and her lovely alto voice singing in harmony with nature-- she couldn't help but sing. She strolled toward the house dancing her hips as she sang hoping to gain the attention of someone—anyone that would hear her. Her cowgirl boots gave a good, strong step on the dirt road as she galloped toward the winding screen door.

“Anyone home?” She finally declared, but not a soul answered. She made her way to the door while her blonde hair underneath the hat played with the wind sometimes covering her eyes, so she was ready to gently move her hair behind her ears before gripping the handle to the screen door. Suddenly the melodies stopped around her like some command was given, so she peered around to see the reason for the silence—to no avail. She frown as she passed the gate into the unknown. Inside the house was dark as night with the only light coming from the brightened natural world outside: no light bulbs or candles or anything to heat the house. This lady saw the passion gone out from the house: it was dead. Love as a lost art here; for the kitchen counters stained with filth, cabinets flopping in and out, and wooden tables and chairs looked like they seen better days. The lady watched the mystery of the lifeless kitchen as she strolled toward the living room. Staring at the empty, broken picture frames, the cover up couches and chairs as well as a cracked television screen. The surprise she felt when she saw all this made her eyes light up with ideas of making beauty from ashes: to see the potential. With this thought, she smiled declaring to the wind: “This will do.”

Out of the mysterious night, she heard a man's voice in reality or her imagination, she knew not. But, it felt like he was calling for her, so she closed her eyes to listen to the strong, soothing voice of her man—hopefully a cowboy named jay-z. She heard him again, and opened her eyes to see the transformation in the house. With a blink of an eye, the cobwebs were gone, the frames had family pictures, the chairs and couches looked so soft and colorful and comfortable, and the television had a movie going on like one of those romantic chick-flicks: This blonde Beyonce loved Chick-flicks, and she smiled. There was a solid oak table in front of the couch and television with a bowl of popcorn as well as chips and salsa—this was truly movie night, but with who?

“Are you ready?” she heard the man say, so she stumbled through the door to the kitchen, She saw a man built like marble of a sculpture with jeans and a t-shirt: he had a tool belt, and the water was leaking. He went to his duties to fix it before relaxing in front of the screen. She couldn't help the exotic sensation: she desired to strip down and love him there and then, but she restrained herself with a seductive smile. Thankfully, she wore nothing underneath her cowgirl clothes—it was freeing. Her eyes brightened as she looked all around the kitchen. The place was spotless, the cabinets were solidly shut, and the granite counter tops shone like pearls. She would love to host family dinners and game nights and parties, and even some alone time with the man of her dreams—if you know what I am saying. She finally nodded to answer the man's question.

Then, she heard little voices: “Mommy! Mommy!” They came from a distance, and when she heard them, it brought a smile on her face. Her heart sang listening to girls and boys calling her mommy—she desired many children. She loved children: the wonder, the curiosity, and the playfulness. She felt the zeal of youth in her heart—I guess that's how she remained young all these years. The thought of innocent images of herself running around the house made her smile. “One day.” she thought to herself as she closed her eyes again. The images of everything she saw in her mind left the room, and she opened her eyes again to see the ashes all over again. It was all in her imagination, but deep down, she hoped it would all come true—God willing.