Wheeling Gull Isle sacrament

they did not need to touch, to speak.

he felt it. he realized he cared little if it was imagined or not. she did not turn him away. she came closer and closer. his gaze could not part from her and he did not want it to part from her!

the beauty of her was raw in these moments of electric silence. the sandy blush of her matched the stones, her eyes jewels of the sea.

she was beautiful.

he wished to tell her this, to sing for her, to cherish that she had trusted him to come to his isle of peace.

instead he could only do what he had been doing. stare and gaze upon her with a intimate appreciation of her in these moments.

his eyes said everything that he could not.