Yearning

The road was windswept and waves of rain submerged the surface in bends and hollows.

He could not relaxed his attention, there was so much at stake, and this great writer yearned to be right there when it happened.

His skyline’s engine roared through the night, visions of triumph, glory and fame floated through his mind, so much effort, time, blood, and, yes, tears.

As in a dream he thought of her, his muse, his lover, his wife.

He jumped out of the car, climbed the stairs four at a time, panting, the door opened, a familiar face was smiling: “Congratulations! It’s a girl.”