I was a wee lad when emerald eyes did gleam my way
brightened by rosy cheeks and a sweet smile from cerise lips.
A tiny, soft hand firmly grasped my own on that fateful day.
And with that first enchantment I have never come to grips.
That tot's sweet words filled my young head with plans beyond my years,
even as her heaven-sent embrace filled my heart with love.
I swear that an angel's voice whispered her name in my ears,
and promised this precious rose was born for me from above.
Such a gift from my own clan drew from me a solemn oath
of devotion and protection which only death could end.
I know the union of our young souls was felt by us both,
A tot and a lonely boy, still too young to comprehend.
To the guardians about us, we were merely playmates,
as kinship expected a couple of children to be.
To them, our pretend nuptials were no hint of the fates,
but the mere harmless mimicry of ages nine and three.
Her screaming terrors in the night only I could still
as I drew my knightly sword to fight the demon shadows.
Then, with caresses to her tresses, I'd ward off fear's chill.
I would stay until the sun's light peaked through the window.
In the garden, we would walk to the fountain and skip stones,
While our parents picnicked out on the neatly trimmed grass.
Until that bigoted old galoot came with bitter bones
and placed his violent curse upon my lovely lass.
His fists beat his own daughter, the grandmother of my rose.
And in his wrath, he kicked aside the brave girl who cried for peace.
The fathers brought the old man to the ground and broke his nose;
The rosebud lay silent; the elder rose's breath had ceased.
The clan that sought to mend a terrible rift from the past,
It was now more torn apart than could ever be reconciled.
Though I fought to change the cruel malediction cast,
I was too young to stop my soul mate from being exiled.
Years of defying Granddaddy brought me brutal beatings,
but he was the laird, and his will was law in our castle.
I was ordered to forget, to stop my constant pleadings,
then to boarding school I was sent to avoid more hassle.
They ne'er knew of the picture I kept inside my head,
of emerald eyes that peered into the depths of my soul,
and like beacons guided my dreams as I lay in my bed,
across seas and years they gave me purpose, gave me a goal.
But when I learned of her tragic loss and relocation,
her emeralds became haunting orbs of sorrow and pain.
I felt her wandering clueless in a strange new nation,
and wondering if Sean would ever come to her again.
I could make no calls or send no notes, so help me I tried.
Whether by my folks or her grandparents they were all blocked.
So I plotted and found those with whom I could be allied,
through which to implement my strategies and have her stalked.
I learned the details of her daily life so far away,
all about her struggles, triumphs, talents and ambitions.
Everything I learned only increased my love for her each day,
and strengthened my resolve to outwit the prohibitions.
At last I traversed the great Atlantic to see her face,
and spotted eyes so green they rivaled the Emerald Isle.
She was still so young, yet endowed with such beauty and grace,
that my knees nearly buckled when I glimpsed her winsome smile.
Through the schoolyard fence she acknowledge me but a stranger,
and I at first could not comprehend how she could not know.
Was I not her Sean, knight to protect her from all danger?
I could hardly contain my heart's disappointment and woe.
Through my tears I observed a quiet, compassionate lass,
who was the one friend of a boy with cerebral palsy.
He spied me staring at them just as they were called to class,
He pointed at me; I left before accused falsely.
I did see that emerald gaze from over her shoulder
and noted confusion in it and the sadness that I caused.
I wondered the harm I might have done had I been bolder.
I could have frightened her, me sixteen, she ten, and I paused.
Ten years fly by. I carefully watched her mature
while I anonymously worked hard to influence her life.
I was impressed by the resilience of one so demure.
But, she drove men wild with naivety, causing me much strife.
I could no longer stay in the shaded perimeters,
so I made my move to make our paths literally collide.
I had spent hours pondering all the particulars.
So I applied my charm and turned the tide; she'd be my bride.
My rose blushed and her emerald eyes were incandescent,
when she heard my brogue, saw my brawny self and searched my blues.
Though Sean in her mind was a memory evanescent,
the Sean in her heart stood before her and re-lit love's fuse.
Oh what rapturous joy to gaze in those jewels of green,
to hear her laughter, hold her hand and talk with her again.
I caressed rose scented raven locks with blue velvet sheen.
My passion for her took a will of iron to contain.
But that cruel curse, spat long ago, raged from across the sea,
and suspicions of my intent incurred a demons wrath.
To honor my father and spare his broken heart for me,
I had to make assurances to him and alter my path.
My rose would be in my life, but I would not marry.
I had to give her away to the brother I had found,
and my goal of matrimony, now dead, I'd bury.
Instead she'd work for me; our discoveries would be profound.
The orchestration of all our lives seemed without a glitch.
My rose and I had reason to be together nearly everyday.
I was content to share with my brother her who made us both rich.
We made a happy family in a peculiar way.
Even though I had not foiled the curse, I did have victory.
I had obtained with sweet finesse that which was forbidden.
The blind bigot now appeased, I had my rose; she had me.
In all our years, no one discovered that which I'd hidden.
Then, my brother did the unthinkable and broke her heart.
I felt was given a second chance to make her my bride.
She turned to me, her friend, but passion freed tore her apart.
Comfort she needed most, and I, her host, had crossed a line.
A storm of jealousy unleashed its fury upon us;
my brother, now my enemy, my rose fled the fierce fight.
For her sake, we came to our senses and ended our fuss,
but not before my rose had disappeared into the night.
Against my own desire, I helped my brother bring her back.
To lure her in, I told her I would meet and sail with her.
then betrayed her with a kiss, dropping with a heart attack.
In fear for my life, she summoned my brother, the doctor.
Near death, I saw a future where I was a fox's mate.
My brother's son was mine, and my rose bore a baby girl.
Blessings were mine if I followed the prophecy of fate.
If I did not, the end of my world would unfurl.
For a time, my rose was lost at sea with a rogue seaman.
My anger burned not against him but against my dear friend.
I stuffed it while my brother and I tracked her and that demon.
We dealt with the sea devil but were too late in the end.
That cocky captain was dead by his own foolhardiness.
My brother took a bullet to his chest and sleeps to recover,
but my rose was shot in the back and drowned--a hopeless mess.
Tubes and wires, bleeps and blips, doctors and nurses gave life to her.
I wept at her side for weeks and mourned the loss of my rose.
Comforted by the woman who carried my brother's son,
The sexy fox I foresaw to whom I was to propose.
I could not quit life because, with this fox, I was not done.
Miraculously, my prayers for my friends were granted.
My brother awakened, announcing new faith and a gift.
Into my rose and the unborn, new life he implanted.
Her cheeks blushed; her emeralds shone bright; her recovery was swift.
Joy and thanksgiving engulfed my pitiful, depressed self.
My lost family was returned to me as good as new.
Now, we could all store the past away on some dusty shelf.
A future awaited us, which our God would see us through.
However, obsessed, I was unable to leave the past behind.
In a private moment with my rose, I stole a lengthy kiss.
After which, I left her alone to sort things out in her mind.
My brother went to find her; he felt something was amiss.
A note was left to reassure him but requested time and space.
He was willing to oblige her, but not me. I was provoked.
Twas me she was avoiding, and I'd say so to her face.
Later, I went to confront her, in the darkness I was cloaked.
Against the one who cursed me and against my entire clan as well,
Against my brother, against my God, and against my rose,
I fumed as I tracked down that woman to whom I'd raise hell,
Anger smoldering as I stomped along the road I chose.
I meant to punish her sore with a turn over my knee,
and I caught her off guard in the midst of an ancient site.
Like a volcano, I spewed my rage, my hurt, and let it free.
She didn't cower but was a quick, fearsome, fiery sprite.
I am ashamed of myself for I was a burly brute
and drug her along, shook her about, and bruised her backside.
I tried to take her, and twas my possessiveness at the root.
But she pointed out, she was not now nor ever my bride.
My fever dissipated, but not my justified fears.
Had I become the monster I thought my dad's dad to be?
She didn't know what I'd suppressed all the years,
The bad blood that spoiled our childhood--tainted our history.
Yet still, she loved me, forgave me, wanting back her dear boss.
She had discovered a new story that we two now share.
I listened to her amazed, and my fear was at a loss
for the ancient ancestry of which I was unaware.
My rose had justified our relationship through the past
and blessed my future marriage to her husband's ex-mistress.
I had uncorked my bottled anger from my soul at last.
and we had come to an understanding through mutual distress.
Now, I am married to a beautiful fox, as I'd foreseen.
My brother and my rose are reconciled, their vows anew.
We all eagerly await the arrival of the weans,
and on the surface, at least life was going as on cue.
Yet, my rose has gone away on a trip with my brother,
and I sit here in my library with my wife in our room.
Emerald eyes still appear to me. Raven hair frames them.
I have loved my rose since her mother bore her from the womb.
My rose is at once my sister, my charge, and my inspiration.
I helped mold her into the woman she has now become.
She doesn't remember her Sean, a mere apparition,
as I remember the wee bairn my gran brought home.
If she doesn't remember her visits at the estate
or the young playmate that stayed with her in her folk's cottage,
would revelation do harm to her fragile mental state?
If she's stronger than I perceive, she would want this knowledge.
Such a revelation could change the delicate balance.
There are more people involved in our lives now than ever.
Can I confess the past without hurting our alliance?
Emerald eyes will have to search my soul to remember.
Not the end.
Lori Dawn Vidak
6-7-14
