I wish I could recreate the magic of her fingers ploughing through my hair, my loyal strands parting ways to ensconce her slender digits, the embrace of the tuft extending to my arms that held her legs, as I rested my chin in the cradle of her lap. She refused to be embarrassed by the moon making a full appearance and staring shamelessly at the wanton display of amour, or the stars mischievously winking at each other enjoying the spectacle. We had shut out the universe, seeking refuge in each other’s irises, content in the world that had formed in the circle of our arms.
The stem cut through the dark waters and the foxle dipped menacingly lower spraying my senses with ice cold water, snapping me out of my reverie and washing away the magical moment that never belonged to me. The miles that my ship left behind the port seemed, but a lazy drift, compared to the distance that we had sailed apart in the last couple of months. My voyage now had a destination, my path a charted course. I was a brilliant navigator and my eternal friends, the stars never failed me. But how did they fail me at my birth? How is it that I failed to chart their path, which would have convinced her parents, that the stars never foretold any calamity that would befall them? It would be sacrilegious to even assume that the stars would not stand us in good stead, because they were my only true friends? Many a time, they had held my hand and guided me to safety when the miracles of technology had failed me. Many a nights we have spent in each others company, talking about the weather and the swells of the oceans.
But how were we to know that we would be such great friends when I was born. How were they to know that my mother had heralded my arrival and that they should rally around to welcome their future friend? It is not their fault. I looked at them now, resplendent in their golden coats, seeking guidance for my current voyage, forgiving them for their betrayal in my search for a soul mate. I winked back at them, my eyelids forcing out a tear drop in its effort, my weak smile engaged in replacing memories with thoughts of a new port.