Hidden with broken wings ,,,so grey!

The first darkness of the evening slowly surrounded him as he diredted his ret t5o take him home. He had visit a friend and the afternoon has slowly become early evening.  The summerrain had both started and stopped. The walkways was still a bit wet and waterdrops fall on the him as he passed some big trees. Shadows was since long just amemory of the sunny day! Even if the day had been sunny, he was frozen and longed for the warmth of his home and a cup of coffee!

It was a miracle that he saw her at all.

She has crawled deep into a dark corne. She was almost coverd by the box with sand, that the housecompany placed there for the upcoming winter. He went carefull up to her. Approached her slowly. He had no intention to scare her, where she was hiding behind the box with sand. He looked at her. She had drawn he knees up to her chin and small white hands covered her face, She looked at hin between her fingers. Her eyes was brown and reflected a warm friendly curiosity.-
- Hello, how are you doing?  Why are you hiding here in the beginning darkness of the night?
When she started to talk it was more like a song, Her voice was warm andsoftly melodical, almost like a talked blues!
Witha gracious gesture she stroke the brown hair from her face.
- I am a broken angel, I hide from my fate. I can no longer be a guardian angel when my wings are grey!

He looked with surpise at little woman. She worn a dress in beige and brown,
- No, tell me now what is wrong. No you are not an angel, they are not such things as angels. Tell me what is wrong with you?
- People don't use to recognize an angel when they see one or has an angel visiting. Most of us has no wings or a halo. We are just here to help out and mostly we are not even visible!
- You have to stop talking like that. People may think your have something wrong in your head. No, tell me instead what is wrong . Why are you hiding here in the beginning darkness?
- I streched my hand for help from above, but my legs wasn,t strong to keep me standing. Now I just wait for the fate that is given to us angels with grey wings!

He gave her his hand and with difficulties she stand up. She leaned on him the short way to his home. She sat down on a chair in the kitchen. He bave her a towel of pure indian cotton. Slowly she dried her hair from the moisture of the evening, Whit smal gracious moves she removed the dirt from her face. The waterboiler sounded exactly as waterboiler us to sound. He offerd her a cup steaming tea. Tea from the leafs of  Roboisbush! Slowly he saw the colour returning to her face.
She looked at him with a smile that could be a git from heaven and started to talk in her bluesy melodial way.
- I am an broken angel and my wings , they are so...grey!
He shooked his head. Her voice was so different. The melody when she talked was so hypnotical. Her finger slowly caresses the table. The she looked at him and started to talk again,
- A broken angel can't be of any big help to noone. But you shall always be aware of that their is help for you, that comes from above. I know you have gad a hard time, but the days will be more sunny! You will find the joy again. Know that not all people will be aware of they have had angels as a visitor in their homes!
When she stand up and started to walk out of the kitchen to the livingroom, he saw she had wings on her back. Wings that were damaged and almost grey,

- Hey angel, why are you wings broken and grey?
The question dissapeared in emptyness and silence. He rushed to the livingroom to ask her again. When hereached the livingroom he sa nothibg but emptyness, On the floor he saw the towel of cotton from India and a small white feather was laying alone as a greeting from...
A silent melody was almost possible to hear in the silent livingroom. A melody slihjtly like a bliúes...and the words become weaker and weaker....

- I am a broken Angel and my wings are grey......

A Fantasy When Night Meets Morning

All of a sudden, he saw her sitting in the armchair across the room. She was all dressed in white! She smiled at him, a smile filled with hope for the day and softly she started to talk. Her voice was mild and gave the morning warmth.

- I come to you in my rowboat. I have travellod of the sea of nothing. Striving to reach a shore that will mean more  than endless rowing.
My left oar sings the song about the time when I was none doing nothing. The right oar resting and softly mumble something about the time that will come and I will do even less.
The waves was rythmically hitting the rail of the boat!  Creating deep basstunes singing a serenade about the silence. A song about the longing that the silence is.

She looks at him with warm eyes that slowly melt the snowflakes of the cold morning. Her soft voice scares the cold snowflakes away. Her story gives the pale silent morning life!
The still colourless morning breaks into a sparkling mosaic,, that gives the silence a voice!

With a sigh she enter her fragile rowboat.
She smiles and continue her trip in a fragile rowboat of the sea of  nothing.

At the Bank of the River Where He Lives

It was a warm summermorning not that long ago. He saw her coming down the hill close to the river where he lived. The young girl had a dress with alot of summerflowers on and her feet has lost their shoes.
The rays from the morningsun played sparkling with her  hair. With kips red as raspberries she smiled at him. He smiled softly back!
.  Hey to you, do you have any breakfast to offer to a young girl. My nights has been long and I have lost my shoes!
-I will fix you an omelette. And a bun with cheeze and ham. And a cup of coffee with milk I think you will need.

Yellow as the buttercupflower the omelett soon rested on a plate. And a bun with cheeze and ham also find its place on the tray. A steming coffee diluted with milk made the other dishes company on the tray!
They sit down at the bank of the river. The lips red like raspberries slowly sipp the milkdiluted coffeebrew.

-Tell me young girl, why was your night so long and why have you lost your shoed?
- I was on my way home from the chapel when I was distracted. There on a bench in th epark sat an old and lonly seaman from Peru. We started talking and the hours fly by. I was fascinated by his dark hair, shimmering like black gems in the moonshine. Eyes black as the darkest night smiled at me, just as you could see the sun rise. Just as I stand up and was on my way to leave he talked to me and asked:
- Will you be my own seamanwife?
I was chocked. Such plans was not even close in my young heart! I have to get an education before any man will so capture me. He told me he will write to me when he come to Rotterdam in Holland and once again ask if I wanted to be his own seamanwife! I left in a rush, yes so rapidly I left i forgor my shoes at th ebench in the park. And even if he will write to me from Rotterdam, my answer will be no. Shall I havea man I will seek one from more close to home. I rather chose a carpenter from Sweden than a seaman from Peru!
He looked with morningeyes at the young girl sitting here on the bank of his river. When she smiled she was a reflection of her mother. He saw that so clearly. He looked at th clean plates where justa short time ago a yellow buttercupflower looking omelett rested..
. No my old man,  dearest father, now I better go back and find my shoes. If you have a dress with summerflowers on you have to wear summershoes too!
It is not always easy for an old man to follow the logic thinking of a young girl, but so much he knew close to a bench in the park, she will find her shoes.
Lips red like raspberries say farewell and thanks for breakfast. They will meet again when the days gets older!

. And that I can promise you, I will never be any wife to a seaman from Peru!
It was a warm summermorning not that long ago! He saw her walking up the hill close to the river where he lives. She is looking for her shoes, close to a bench in the park!