the candle was lit in a cold room, upon the table there were flowers

as he passed the narrator he went into the room and danced with his wife

they held each other in an unbreakable pose that was so delightful

he was so good to her, always touching her face gently and telling her how beautiful she is

when the cord was strained between them they worked together to mend the folds

and the folds were her children, always pulling the cords to see what they were made of

when she opened the door, the children stood on the outside and questioned what they had seen

she was graceful and beautiful and always giving her heart away to those who willingly accepted it

the only person that had her hands though was her husband, he alone would caress her hands

always holding them in just the right way, making a beautiful circle as they danced with one another

the children grew weary along the road that they danced upon, but mother always loved them

she always told them how beautiful they were, and let them know that they needed to forgive

there was no end to the forgiveness that was given to them by her husband, she was just a messenger

when the children would open her letters they would see pictures of their movement on parchment

it made them question and ponder what the designs they made as they danced meant, but it was just part of the dance

he loved his wife dearly and she always looked into his eyes as they danced, holding each other so tightly

one directly upon the other and never breaking for a moment, their dance was perfection - it had been planned in advance

she was a lovely person who always looked her children in the eye and told them how much she loved them

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