<br><br><center>
*Clouds pass and disperse.
Are those the faces of love, those pale irretrievables?
Is it for such I agitate my heart?*
― Sylvia Plath</center>



<br><br>![il_570xN.661022711_r4p6.jpg](https://cdn.steemitimages.com/DQmbo91sZ9a8h4d2UcmT5mfEi76LvWf2An4fvFUg8uxcmkS/il_570xN.661022711_r4p6.jpg)




<br><br>Bri and I  spent the weekend in a Gothic Revival castle but it wasn’t romantic.

She was with Ward Stephenson, an older married man who had just bought our publishing house and was planning to relocate me and I suspect replace me in Bri’s life.

It was a futile end to a frustrating week and now here we were, sitting on my bench in the park staring at clouds and trying to sort out our lives.

It was not a pleasant situation.

<br><br> To make matters worse I had just told Bri that I only met two women in this whole world who loved clouds —one ran away to Peru, and as for Bri…well, I confessed I don’t know what she was doing. 

<br><br> Her eyes grew wide with surprise. “You think I’m prostituting myself?”

I looked at her narrowly. “I never said that.”

“But you were thinking it.”

“No, actually I wasn’t. I was thinking you’re lovely like these clouds above us—you’re like everything else in my life that matters and is always just out of reach.”

<br><br>I stopped, not believing what I said.

A silence fell between us.

I’d take back the words if I could, but couldn’t.

It occurred to me I probably lost another person who made Life meaningful for me—another cloud seeker who gave me a reason to get out of bed each day.

<br><br>“So that’s it—that’s what you’re telling me—that you’ve been in love with me all this time?”

I turned toward her, expecting to see sparks of anger in her eyes, but instead, I saw her soul—dark and filled with tears.

I was frozen. It’s hopeless when you’ve said all that can be said—when you’re in your truth and still experience desolation and loss.

<br><br>She went quiet a long time, and then finally asked, “When the firm moves are you going to Seattle?”

I shook my head. “It rains there all the time, and much as I love rain, I can’t take too much of one thing. I love the four seasons and the changing face of the sky.”

“So, you can’t look at the same face all your life?”

“Only if it was yours—I could make that exception.”

<br><br>Somehow, I ended up in her arms, kissing the face I love.

“I can’t remember the last time I did something just for me,” she whispered.

“But what about Ward, and what about Seattle?”

She inhaled deeply. “That kind of life isn’t me. I was looking for something, not expecting to find it in someone. I thought I needed to go places when I just needed to fall in love—with you.”

<br><br>My first love left without explanation and tormented me with a cloud.

She was an idler blown about by moods and winds, drifting to distant places.

My real love stayed and shared the sky.

And now I’m finally happy, drawn up into her cloud and the beautiful sadness of her eyes.

<br><br><center>© 2020, John J Geddes. All rights reserved</center>

<br><br><center>[ Photo](https://images.app.goo.gl/QiKyYt8Z6vsFmQwL6 ) </center>
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