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Message-ID: <49672asstr$1099429802@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Souvie <souvieEARPLUGS@mindspring.com>
Reply-To: Souvie <souvie@mindspring.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} "Just for a Moment" (M/F; palindrome)
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Date: Tue,  2 Nov 2004 16:10:02 -0500
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Author: Souvie
Title: Just for a Moment
Summary: My attempt at a palindrome.
Keywords: M/F, palindrome

My thanks for Denny for his beta, and to Alexis for the inspiration.
I've admired her palindrome stories so much - and got tired of hearing
myself say "I can't" - that I decided to at least _try_.

Feedback can be sent to: souvie@mindspring.com


"Just for a Moment"
copyright 2004


I can still see her lying there, silhouetted in the moonlight.

Her smile warms me and lets me know that maybe my life wasn't
meaningless after all.

"I love you, I always have," she whispers.

I don't deserve her. Tears stream down my face.

In her eyes I see reflections of lazy afternoons spent tangled in the
sheets, her hands light as dust motes on my skin. She loves touching
me almost as much as I love to touch her. Almost, but not quite.

Her breasts  are full with just the hint of gravity intervening.
They've always been my weakness. Soft, round globes fit my hands as
perfectly as they did when we were first married.

It's not true what they say about marriage breeding familiarity -
every day was a new experience, one I wouldn't have wanted to share
with anyone else.

I could remember every single moment.

And now as I watch her body wasting away, machines and wires and
beeps, it's all I can do to hold on and not break down. She looks into
my eyes, a ghost of her former self and I squeeze her hand, feel her
slipping away.

I could remember every single moment.

It's not true what they say about marriage breeding familiarity -
every day was a new experience, one I wouldn't have wanted to share
with anyone else.

Soft, round globes fit my hands as perfectly as they did when we were
first married. They've always been my weakness. Her breasts are full
with just the hint of gravity intervening. Almost, but not quite.

She loves touching me almost as much as I love touching her. In her
eyes I see reflections of lazy afternoons spent tangled in the sheets,
her hands light as dust motes on my skin.

Tears stream down my face.  I don't deserve her.

"I love you, I always have," she whispers.

Her smile warms me and lets me know that maybe my life wasn't
meaningless after all.

I can still see her lying there, silhouetted in the moonlight.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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