A Poet's Dream

Chapter Five

How Wonderful Life Is, While You're In The World

~Five Years Later~

Christian gazed out the window, watching listlessly as the rain streaked down the windows of his study. Sighing heavily, he sat down at his desk, and picked up the programme once again. He'd often wondered when he and Satine would cross paths again. The show was tomorrow night, and Christian kept changing his mind on whether or not he should attend the play. He knew nothing of the story, nor did he care. The chance to see Satine again...after all this time...it was almost too intense to bear. His thoughts were interrupted when the door to his study opened.

"Sir, pardon the intrusion, but your daughter is asking for you."

"Yes, thank you Nadia."

Christian shook off his reverie, and ascended the stairs toward his three-year old daughter's bedroom.

"Daddy, I had a bad dream," Leah cried sadly.

"Shh, tis alright, my dear, I'm here."

Christian gathered Leah in his arms, and rocked her slowly, as she drifted back into a deep slumber. He watched her as she slept. She looked so much like her mother. But she had his eyes, that much was certain.

Smiling contently, Christian laid his daughter back onto her pillow. He made his way back down toward his study; with memories of a past he'd long ago abandoned dancing in his mind.


The theatre lobby was shimmering gracefully in the damp London night.  Ornate sconces and chandeliers hung from elaborately painted walls and vaulted ceilings, and well-dressed patrons floated eagerly through the narrow corridors leading to the main theatre.

Stunning murals spanned the high ceilings, overlooking the deep red seats that sat on the floor and balconies. 

At the front of the theatre, stood a large, high stage, presently concealed with a thick, deep red velvet curtain.

Christian walked down the main aisle tentatively, his heart racing.  He looked down at his ticket, then back up at the stage that stood ominously before him.  Taking a deep, shaky breath, Christian walked down to his row, and quickly found his seat.  He sat down heavily, and let out a relieved breath.

He was six rows away from the stage, in a seat on the main aisle; he was so close…yet so far, from his only love.

Moments later, the lights flickered, then dimmed to a soft glow.

The orchestra began playing, and the curtain lifted slowly, and moments later, Satine appeared.

She looked radiant; as beautiful as Christian remembered her.  Her long, deep red hair sat in perfect curls on top of her perfect head; her cherry red lips were pursed into a clever grin.  Her slender neck was decorated with an elaborate necklace; it's beauty paling next to the woman that carried it.

She opened her mouth to sing, and Christian felt his heart lurch; the moment was so beautiful, and so painful simoultaniously.  He thought that time, and distance would have dulled his need; his desire.

He was wrong.

He sat in the theatre numbly, his eyes never leaving Satine.  Somewhere in the middle of the second act, he heard the rumblings of a familiar tune.  He perked up, and leaned forward.  He saw Satine's smile falter, and saw her eyes glaze over slightly.  Unaware of his own tears, he watched Satine struggle through the song.  His song—his song to her.

Her song.

His heart broke, as a million tiny, wonderful memories broke through the defensive wall that he had erected years ago, just so he could get through the day.  He hadn't sung this song in years; and he was sure he'd never hear it again.

He shouldn't have come.


Satine found her mark, and listened as the band began her next song.  The familiar chords still made her ache for Christian, and she couldn't help but feel nauseous at the thought that they were using Christian's song without his permission.

She felt like she was betraying him, yet again.

It had been The Duke's idea; he'd recalled the song that Satine has sung to him the night they'd met.  Unaware that it was Christian's private gift to Satine, the Duke had insisted that it be added to the latest play.

The playwright had been furious—until he'd heard the song.

And now Satine was standing in the centre of the most famous stage in London, and she was hating every second of it.

"And you can tell everybody this is your song It may be quite simple but now that it's done.  I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind that I put down in words.  How wonderful life is while you're in the world…"

Satine took a deep breath, and tried to clear her mind of all images of Christian.  She could never do this song justice; she could never fill it with the beauty that it deserved.  She looked into the crowd, just as a man several rows back stood and turned to walk out of the theatre.

Her mind was playing tricks on her; the man looked just like…

No.  The Show Must Go On.

"I sat on the roof and kicked off the moss.  Well a few of the verses well they've got me quite cross.  But the sun's been quite kind while I wrote this song.  It's for people like you that keep it turned on.  So excuse me forgetting but these things I do; you see I've forgotten if they're green or they're blue.  Anyway the thing is what I really mean.  Yours are the sweetest eyes I've ever seen."


He couldn't stay a moment longer.  It was bad enough that Satine looked absolutely stunning; she had to sing a song that had meant so much to him…to them.

He ran from the theatre, berating himself for being so foolish.

He should never have come.


"My darling, where are you going at this hour?"

"My dear Duke, it's a beautiful morning.  I'd like to take full advantage of it."

"Of course.  Well give me a moment, and I shall accompany you," The Duke rose from his reading chair slowly.

"My dear Duke, that is not necessary.  I will be fine.  Please." Satine smiled sweetly, and floated out the door before the Duke could protest.

Satine let out a deep breath, and smiled, as she made her way out and toward the large marketplace.  She was thrilled to have a few moments of peace, away from the Duke, and away from that stuffy flat he had acquired for their short stay in London.

The sun shone brightly on the glimmering sidewalks, and Satine could not contain the content smile that invaded her face.  It had been weeks since she'd been able to walk in the sun alone—she reveled in every moment of it.

The marketplace was bustling, and Satine weaved her way through the crowds, stopping only to purchase a large red apple that had beckoned her.  She dusted the round, inviting fruit with her skirt, and took a large, luxurious bite.  The sweet juice dribbled down her chin, and she giggled softly.

She turned, and her eyes fell on a familiar form.  Once again, she was certain that her eyes were deceiving her.

It couldn't be.

She pulled the apple away from her mouth, and watched as the man turned toward her, his eyes searching for something—or someone.


The apple she was holding fell out of her hands, and she stifled a small sob.

He had yet to see her.  He appeared to be preoccupied.

Suddenly, a young, thin woman in drab servant clothing appeared, carrying a small, beautiful child.  Satine watched, as Christian's eyes lit up, as he took the little girl into his arms.

Satine smiled.  Christian had clearly found love, found a new life.  He had moved on, and made his dream come true.

It was everything she'd always wanted for him.

But it broke her heart.

("Your Song" by Elton John and Bernie Taupin)