Pencil, Pen, Ink, Watercolour on Arches, Cold-pressed, 300g/m Watercolour block.
Dawn has been abandoned again!
A beautiful soul, Dawn had no need to entice with brilliance.
Not that it had anything to do with not being intelligent or being blond!
But she would talk and smile and laugh and light up this untidy world with her inimitable Joie de vivre!
Unthinking, she would bump or touch, man or woman, as a natural extension to conversation.
Her long, slim fingers unavoidably wrapping themselves around your heart and made you need holding her tight to protect her.
She unflatteringly leans against you when she is tired.
There were times I had her asleep in my lap like a little girl.
She has this funny, intermittent, snort when in deep, alcoholic sleep.
Dawn is a beautiful Butterfly that is more a child than woman.
She speaks of her problems and loves with equal candor.
Years we have known each other, always never more than the closest of friends.
Never intimate, she would be the prettiest escort on my arm whenever I had the need.
I, in turn, was her escort, not that I was needed very often.
Countless men have idolized her. Many were desperate to own her.
All feared her attraction to others and despaired at her flighty nature.
Some even proposed marriage, if only to entrap her delicious nature in a gilded cage.
The ones she loved abused her with their jealousies and insecurities.
All she ever wanted was to be loved, not idolized, not feared, just loved.
I had heard that she had lost her looks, that the body had lost its splendor.
I heard one lady- friend, once also her friend, remarking that she had deserved her fate.
That one friend is no longer a friend, never should have been, and will never be again!
Pulling the folded paper from my pocket, I dialed the number I had been given.
It rang out once, and then took 9 rings on the second dial before the receiver was picked up.
The “Hello” was sad and nasal, but it was her voice.
(To be continued)
NB: persons and charactors in this story are fictional.