I wondered if I could write a romance. You know a typical, boy meets girl, boy loses girl, girl wins boy back – happy ending – That sort of thing. I had a couple of little goes at a short story and I just don’t seem to be able to do it. Death, despair and despondency creep in no matter what.
I looked back at some of my “romantic pieces – there are a couple that are a bit smoochy but nothing that really fits in the genre.
This is an older piece but it shows you what I’m up against when I try to write a love story
The Day by the Lake
Do you remember Sylvie, the day by the lake? Do you recall my love how the water sparkled and shone, the way the trees lined the further banks and painted the middle distance golden green. Can you see in your mind the blue sky, ah that heavenly ceiling, the colour of your eyes, stretched above us away to infinity.
There you were my darling, bronzed and beautiful stood before me in naked splendour, the glow of sunshine captured by your skin and the gleam of your hair, like liquid gold spreading across your gilded shoulders, a cape about your upper body skimming your splendid breasts and teasing the male in me beyond all that is reasonable.
Ah yes, my sweet and then the feel of grass against our bodies, the sun warm on our backs and the gentle tickle of the winsome breeze against our skin. I took you then, the first time, the blessed initiation and you came to me completely.
Today, in this grey place, with the lighting harsh and unforgiving, the stark whiteness of the sheets an assault upon my vision I see you. The knots in your fingers insult my eyes and the stiffness in your joints, my dearest Sylvie hurt my heart. I see the glint of silver in your thinning hair and I see that your eyes have left the sunshine and look to me from a rainy day. To me, my only love you are, and will always be, the girl beside the shimmering water, the sun-kissed maiden in the flower blessed meadow and now as I prepare for you to leave me I remember you Sylvie, as you were the day beside the lake.