The magician

She sat at the windowsill, like a splendid painting stirred out of a vision, a vernal poem liberated from the soul, a virgin melody cast into the air, all of youth's beauty distilled into her.  Her long locks lay carelessly about her shoulder.  But her eyes were burning like embers.  The last drop of tear rolled down onto her golden dress, trailed awhile, absorbed into the creases, and lay there to become one with the air.  She stared into space, the golden evening, into everything, and nothing.  Her mind traveled a great distance, to places that she knew not existed, lived days of pain and pleasure, and returned to her, wholly exhausted.  It returned to a hush, to the stillness of the lake on a moonless night, disturbed only by the occasional fall of a dying leaf, or a slight turn of the untiring breeze. 

She was lost in the depths of the unmoving waters, when she heard a gentle tap on her window.  Startled out of her reverie, she looked outside.  She must have been dreaming, she thought, took a deep breath, and returned to staring at eternity.  She was just settling in, when she heard it again.  This time, she knew she wasn't dreaming.  She opened the window and the cold autumn rushed in.  She closed her eyes briefly as the wind whizzed past her.  And then it all began.  Was it the tinkle of tiny bells, or was it the singing of merry blue-jays?  Enchanting music filled the air as she opened her eyes in wonder.  A golden hue surrounded her, and sparkling confetti showered upon her.  She leaped up from the windowsill, her footsteps light and sprightly, treading the room.  She turned around, round and round.  Golden birds flew in, circled around her, as she jumped merrily to reach them.  Fresh green twigs, bedecked with flowers, purple and pink and soothing lavender, floated into her room.  Elegant branches wrapped around her, adorning her with their exotic blossoms.  Ethereal fragrances filled the room, and she laughed with joy, like a little child, innocent pleasure pouring forth.  

Long was she lost in this bliss; her heart filled with delight, as travails of the past ebbed away.  She slowed down, and stopped still.  She closed her eyes and reveled in the marvel around her.  She breathed in the crisp air, she breathed in a force anew.  She opened her eyes and smiled as the magic drifted past her.  She watched it all float away through the window that let it in.  A sudden thought occurred to her and she sprang to the window.  Surely, this was all magic, but where was the magician?!  She ought to find him, she ought to thank him!  She opened the windows wide, and leaned over, looked below, and to the sides.  And as if he had read her thoughts, he swooped down and landed on the ledge below, took her hands in his and said, "Happy to help!"  "Thank you!", she exclaimed, "But who are you?!"  He smiled, came close, and gently whispered something in her ear.  She smiled and waved at him as he swished his cape, and before she knew, he was on his way to the house yonder, at whose window sat a delicate damsel, with flowing tresses and moist eyes.  She turned away from the window as his silky voice echoed in her ear, 'I am batman.'  


P.S. This post is written for a narcissist friend of mine, who has bullied me into writing a post for him. :D

The duel

He lay there defeated,
On the wet grass,
His sword at his feet,
Breathing heavily,
Wounds bleeding afresh,
Head throbbing with pain.

He opened his eyes,
In the darkness of the night,
Shadows cast by the moon,
Behind the purple haze,
Stood his towering assailant,
With a smug look on his face.

Groaning in agony, he sat up,
Studied his victor close, and said,
'You are the same, aren't you?
Our swords have met before,
And I have fought my battles best,
Yet why is it that I never win?'

His stolid opponent smiled,
Sheathed his bloody sword,
Donned his coat and hat,
Turned to depart, but paused,
And said, 'Thanks for the invite,
See you next spring.'