The Joining

The Joining



Death smelled floral, like an iris perfume, sickly as it was rich. The woman in my arms was dead. The life of love I led, which had scattered across my twisting roads fragrant petals, now ended before me with the cliff of graves. Even now a mocking flower scent filled the air, as though the love I once possessed were still there. The wind caressed and kissed my cheeks as I eyed that tempting cliff and those solemn graves, then turned to leave the site and continue my steady pace along life’s journey with a new goal: to bide the time ‘till I could join my wife who would lie below