Silhouette

In the Garden of Dreams

The crickets called softly in the night, and the water fell from the fountain as music. The first stars were emerging from the veil of blue dusk, and as she sat in the garden, among the twining vines bent with cascades of red roses, she felt as if she could touch them, and settle them as a crown upon her brow. They would be woven with the roses, and the soft twilight, and her skin would become the cool water in the fountain, her flesh the earth that held the vines anchored to this moment which felt eternal. The silence of the falling night and the breathless stars was heavy beneath the chords of the music of the garden and the darkening forest which bordered it.