Thursday, April 26, 2012

Sleep, my babe ...


The watchman had seen her grow up before his eyes.
She had always been his “Little Missie”. And did he love her. He literally danced on her fingertips. Now, she was standing before him. Covered in a thick black shawl, she had held his old hands in her own - the hands that had taught her to walk. She had placed all her confidence in him. Would he fail her hope? Could he fail her hope?
Teary eyed, he opened the wicket gate and helped her run away with that boy she had come to love. He bade her farewell and closed the door silently. The memories of her running through the lawn, shouting on the top of her lungs were vivid.
Did they come here? Did you see them?” The shouts of his master and his aides were coming closer. He composed himself and busied himself in singing his old cradle song
Sleep, my babe, lie still and slumber,
All through the night
Guardian angels God will lend thee,
All through the night ….
When they questioned him, he feigned innocence. “They will not understand my love for him ever. You got to help me.” The words had pained him. No, he would not betray her confidence in him. He wondered if she will remember him, now that she was gone.
His master and servants looked here and there and then left. And he resumed his song …  Sleep, my babe, lie still and slumber ... Guardian Angels God will lend thee ...

12 comments:

  1. That was beautiful! I love it! And I love your site! So pretty.

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    1. Thank you, Leanne for your visit and your compliments.

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  2. I like your story. He needn't worry, I have a feeling she'll never forget him :)

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    1. Thank you. I hope your feeling works.

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  3. Nice imagery in the dancing on her fingertips.
    Thanks for linking up. Come on back for the weekend prompt.

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    1. Thank you. I am sorry I could not participate in the weekend prompt though.

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  4. That was really amazing! I loved the concept! Thank you so much for sharing!

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    1. Thank you Lisa for reading and appreciating.

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  5. I love the story, sad and yet it leaves you to imagine with the words and wondering ...

    x susan

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Since every thought is a seed, I am looking forward to a delicious harvest.