"Berceuse" - Chapter VI

Love is spoken about as it was magic, and depending on the mouth that mutters the words, the shade of those may change from white to black, from heaven to hell. But everyone agrees that it does exist, and that is heavy the weight of the first encounter, of the first look, because there is some magic in the eyes, a touch of confirmation.

But even then, before the irises and the pupils, the ears were the ones telling the Lake Witch that someone was painting her with the colors of a warm autumn. “Loretta…” was the name so sweetly repeated by a new pair of lips, mellow, curious. She felt the shadows of past verses dissipated with every step he and she took towards each other.

Once in front of each other, a few silent seconds. And an invitation.