A Year of Love:

My real name will not be spoken here. I write for the absent one, sleeping in another room; which, might as well be, another realm.

What I'll tell you shall last a year: A story only one "in love " can share.

You, my dear reader, shall know me as Pamfilo, [with a wink, and nod, towards literary pretensions; (a stretch of imagination, unbound, in order to bring my reckless life into some sort of cognizance. )]
**
A year's worth may be too little. Love, as it is, most certainly will last longer than a year.
I need to begin.

There is much I'll gather here....

All for the One who sleeps.
**
A year, begun.

A year, dear reader, of LOVE.
(and, sex...
..and, adventures...
...and,....and,....
....whatever my heart desires to reveal;
to expose, with Time's ever-quickening clock, ticking forward~~Words, period!

**
We live in troubled times. There is darkness in the Land. Let me tell you a story.

(Hush. See now, the candle flame, how it flickers; it's quickness and spark, shall be my guide.)
The heat of passion; ourselves, entwined. The One, my beloved, strokes my chest; her breath, whispers, brushes, my earlobe...

"Pamfilo, tell me a story," she says.....

And so, begins, our year of LOVE.

**(To be Continued...)**

With LOVE,
Pamfilo. 1/1/2008.