Dream of Giving
He stood among the stalks of bamboo. He wasn't there for his usual reasons, in no need of high focus.
Instead, he wanted to dream.
He cupped his empty hands. Light filled them, spilling from his palms. What he pretended to hold in his hands he could not give her, like so many other things… But he could keep her instead, through the nights and the storms, until the light returned…
He dropped his hands, but he could still feel it in his palms. He smiled, closed his hands and imagined taking it home.
The warmth was his to give.
Perhaps I am in danger of becoming addicted to these. (-sheepish grin-)