I WAS TO GO away; still she did not speak. But I felt, from a slight quiver, her yearning arms would say: 'Ah no, not yet.'
I have often heard her pleading hands vocal in a touch, though they knew not what they said.
I have known those arms to stammer when, had they not, they would have become youth's garland round my neck.
Their little gestures return to remembrance in the covert of still hours, like truants they playfully reveal things she had kept secret from me.