Once there were two strangers who met at a fireplace. First, with words, they spoke their minds. Then, when the words failed, they spoke with their hearts. That, too, lasted for only a while, for their hearts got too heavy to speak. Finally they spoke with their hands, writing poetry on the landscapes of each other, leaving messages encrypted. Little did they realize they were both writing of love. The touch lingers and glows a slow amber, lightly searing.

Then they chose to sleep and let their dreams carry this love high up into the sky, a lone balloon taking flight. And in the morning when they woke, they sought the messages they had left on each other's body and realized the love had never left, that what took flight were the doubts and uncertainty in them. They deciphered one message at a time, one corner of the body at a time. Soon all the messages led closer to the heart.

And there, in it, lay a love awaiting.

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