He came.

He knew the shadows had grown since he left. He knew that the leaves had fallen and outside the gate the weeds had grown around the tender trees. He knew. But high in the branches of the sturdiest tree, a tiny blossom opened and the mocking hills were made to bow as a silhouetted figure formed on the misty horizon. A hope that had flickered precariously in the bitter winds of night burned once more, growing deep and strong as the moon fell into the dawn.

He walked. And as he walked, the darkness that had yawned across her world fled into valleys and caves. From far away he knew that she was waiting for him. He had been long in coming but in his arms he held what he had journeyed afar to obtain. A dress. White and pure. Yes she had waited, but the distance once they had known would make their nearness all the more sweet. Her figure was not at the window when he arrived for she was there to greet him as the latch clicked and the hinges cried in a garden of pastel colours where grass seemed always green and flowers always in bloom and the gate opened to the future.

{A stranger's beautiful reply - thank-you James*}