His heart ached like the soul of a
man who is about to die. He was a man
who had many from whom to choose
but he only wanted one in particular.
With sorrowful eyes, he’d watch her as
she’d stroll down the river and fill her
water pot. He’d secretly follow her to the
camp until she was safely inside her
father’s tent. During the late evenings,
he’d think about her while he absently
tossed rocks into the shallow waters
near his tent. With an air of despair, he’d
often wonder if she’d ever want to cast
her eyes upon him.
She was as beautiful as the morning
sun. Her hair was a luscious black which
trickled down her shoulders like crisp,
cool spring water. Her skin was a
tender, smooth brown, devoid of
imperfections. When she spoke,
soothing syrupy words oozed from her
dulcet lips. Oh, how her eyes gleamed
with delight! He found it difficult to
control his love when he thought about
her. Pained pulled at his soul like a
vicious predator. He had to speak to
* * * * *
On an evening when the heavens
were adorned with lovely lavender
ribbons, he came to sit beside her as
she filled her water pot beside the river. She
uttered not a word but, instead, she
gazed into the water. He watched her
until the pot was completely filled before
he gently removed it from her hands.
Astonished, she stared him in the face.
Placing the water pot on the ground with
tender care, he softly smiled and then
spoke to her.
“I am a lonely man.” She didn’t
respond. Nervously, he shifted beside
her and looked at the ground. Meeting
her eyes, he cleared his throat and
“I am not sure how to say this, but I
love you.” She appeared to be slightly
moved, however, she said nothing.
Disappointed, he spoke again.
“I throw myself at your feet,” He
paused. “Cannot you speak?” he
begged, his spirit fading.
“You say you love me but can you
show me?” she remarked. He nearly
fainted at the sound of her sweet voice.
“How can I show that my love is
“Only you can answer that.”
Retrieving her water pot, she walked
away and left him alone with his
thoughts. What could he do that would
be good enough to win her love? For
three sunrises and three sunsets, he
* * * * *
On the night before the harvest
dance, he came to her by the river. She
would not allow her eyes to fall upon his
“There is nothing I wouldn’t do for
you.” he pleaded, holding his palms out
“You say this but, yet, you cannot
“I would walk until there is no more
land beneath my feet--”
“Prove it.” she firmly stated, leaving
him. His heart fell to his feet in a
hopeless, suicidal plummet.
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"The most important thing in life is to learn how to give out love, and to let it come in" -Morrie Schwartz
African American artist who would make an impact on Rhode Island's artistic community.
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