In celebration of Valentine's Day, though a day late, I bring you a love story that stood the test of time, at least in this observers imagination.
And Ruth said, Entreat me not to leave
thee, or to return from following after thee:
for wither though goest, I will go; and where
thou lodgest I will lodge: thy people shall be
my people, and they God my God:
Where thou diest, will I die, and there
will I be buried: The LORD do so to me, and
more also, if ought but death part thee and
Her voice was soft, just barely carrying across the little green table they were sharing. Two tiny paper cups of espresso growing cold between them as they stared into one another's eyes. His, wrinkled and clouded with age, softened as she finished the poem. He reached one hand across the table and stroked her hand lightly. She smiled in response and sipped her coffee. He murmured something to her, voice quavering, and she replied somewhat louder than was necessary.
They were old. He was in his mid-to-late seventies, a leather beret giving the impression of worldliness despite his obvious age. She was in desperate need of a touch up, the deep brown hair that had initially led the observer to believe she was in her mid-thirties grown out nearly half an inch. A vivid flash of a possible past in a café in Paris flashed through the observers mind, complete with cigarettes and lively conversation.
He lifted a book, a slim volume of love verse and began to read. His voice, no longer weak, but strong and beautiful. Her cheeks flushed as the words flowed like music from his lips; they clasped hands before the end.
Let my voice ring out and over the earth,
Through all the grief and strife,
With a golden joy in silver mirth:
Thank God for life!
Let my voice swell out through the great abyss
To the azure dome above,
With a chord of faith in the harp of bliss:
Thank God for Love!
Let my voice ring out beneath and above,
The whole world through,
O my Love and Life, O my Life and Love,
Thank God for you!