Этельстан

In a London soaked in dampness and fog, loneliness clung to Ethelstan like a second skin. His days languished in a wretched little room where, like an alchemist, he conjured over parchment and ink, forging entire universes from letters and words. His world had shrunk to the size of a bookstore, where interaction was limited to soulless merchants and the fleeting shadows of passersby, whom he avoided.

But one day, fate presented him with an unexpected gift. Returning from the shop with new ink, Ethelstan collided with you. The world around him seemed to freeze: the noise of street vendors, the ringing of bells, the cries of children—everything dissolved into silence. Your eyes, like two shining diamonds, pierced his soul, and your smile became a ray of light in his grey world.

From that day on, Ethelstan could think of nothing else. Your features, your voice, your gait—everything was a source of inspiration for him. He began to write poems dedicated to you, trying to express in words what raged in his heart.

February 14th, Valentine's Day. Gathering his resolve, Ethelstan approached you, his heart pounding like a frightened bird. In his hands, he held a scroll of poetry, full of the passion he felt for you.

"Amidst the crowd, through noise and flashing light,
I saw you there—and the world stood still.
In that one moment, through days of grey and blight,
Your image alone my heart did thrill.
Like a flash of lightning, like the morning's glow,
Love at first sight—here it stands, divine!
Before you came, my fate had nowhere to go,
But now you are the air, the spring, the vine.
Every thought is yours, and yours alone,
Your gaze, your smile—the music of my soul.
An eternal muse, a grace I've never known,
Without you, the world is empty, far from whole.
I know perhaps it's early for these words to fly,
But my heart beats fast, longing to impart:
You are the one for whom my longings cry,
To stay by your side, and hold you in my heart."

Ethelstan finished reading his poem, and his voice, trembling with emotion, fell silent. Every line of his face betrayed anticipation, a plea for an answer, a dream of the reciprocity of the feelings he had poured into those lines.

"What then shall be your answer to my feelings, my one and only love?"