Back in 2009, I started writing Remember The Eyes….well, back then, it was called, “Found Love”…but, I didn’t like that title, and I didn’t think it fit very well. RTE worked so much better, since Michael and Riley’s eyes were an integral part of the book.
In case any of you don’t know, Riley has these past life dreams, featuring her and someone else…a man that she doesn’t know. But, when she runs (literally) into a boy at her school, she looks into his eyes and realizes that he is the man from her past life dreams.
Some other things about Riley is that she has some very amazing special abilities, some of which are astral travelling (being able to almost step out of your body to visit other places) and the ability to read minds. In the passage below, she does this to visit Michael.
Michael is a songwriter/poet/musician from England, going to school in Canada. All the poems that he writes are for, and about, Riley.
Let me tell you….I’m not a poet by any means. I don’t write poetry as a rule, and I go through several pieces of paper and many scribbles later before I get it the way I like it, or for it to work with the storyline. I don’t really write the poems…my character does. So far, Michael has been the only one that has written anything…but, there could be more in the future who have the ability. You never know.
So, here are a few passages from the book, and a couple of poems that I wrote.
I run to his room, wanting to spend as much time with him as I can, even if he doesn’t know I’m there. I pause just outside his door, and listen. He’s still on the phone with Adam or one of his other friends. I step through his door and I’m inside his room.
I smile. It looks like a typical guys room. Clothes draped over a chair at his desk, books piled on the floor instead of on the shelf, his bed not made.
I stood at his door, leaning against it, knowing that he can’t see me. I just wanted to look at him again. I walked over to him slowly and stood next to his bed where he’s sitting. He raised his nose to the air and sniffed, as if he was a dog catching a scent of some animal close by. He closed his eyes and sniffed again, his head tilting slightly to the right. His brows furrow, then he shakes his head smiling.
He hesitated on the phone with his friend, then quickly continued with the conversation, his brows still furrowed. I looked into his mind to see what he thinks he smells here. ‘Why am I smelling her here? She has never been here before.’ He smells his clothes, but he doesn’t smell me on him. He’s going to start thinking he’s crazy if he can smell me and I’m no where in sight.
I watched as Michael got ready, running his hand through his hair and checking himself in the mirror, then he sat at his desk, writing in a journal book. I looked over his shoulder as he wrote.
Blue skies and butterfly kisses,
The softness of the grass,
The rich brown soil,
The branches of the trees,
I would not want to live
In a world without these things.
When he wrote the poem out, he was picturing me, kissing me under the apple tree in the courtyard. I could feel his fingers woven into my hair, pulling me closer to him in his strong arms, his smell intoxicating and delicious to me.
I just wanted to hold him in my arms, too. He was so handsome and sweet. He was the sweetest boy I had ever met, so kind and gentle and loving. None of the boys at my high school were ever like him. They weren’t gentlemanly and they would never think to hold out a girls chair for her or maybe hold open a door. They would never think to ask the girl what they wanted to do. It was always about them.
He sat at his desk a minute longer, then there was a knock on his door. I looked towards the door and knew that it was Adam there with his guitar case. Michael got up and answered the door. He still acted like he didn’t want to go.
“Hey Mikey, come on. I told the other guys to wait downstairs.”
“Ok, I’ll be right there.” He grabbed his guitar case and took one last look around his room. I was standing right next to him. He sniffed the air again, obviously smelling my presence there.
“You ok, man?” Adam asked. “You’ve been acting weird lately.”
Shaking his head, trying to get the thoughts of me out of his head, Michael said, “Yeah, I’m ok.” And, then he was out the door.
I sat down on his bed, and found a well worn book that was lying on the floor beside his bed. The pages were dog-eared and there were torn pieces of paper as bookmarks scattered throughout. I read the poem that it was open at.
I’ve told you that you’re beautiful,
My beautiful blue-eyed girl.
You are the sun in the summer,
Playing dizzily through the trees.
You are the moon at the night time,
Keeping me warm in your arms.
You are the rain, falling down softly,
Showering me with your love.
I only wish I could have these things,
To hold forever in my arms.
But, if not me, m’Lady, then who?
Who will be the lucky one,
Who gets to hold all of these?
I read the poem over and over, memorizing each line and feeling the poems intentions. When Michael finally came out of the bathroom, he blushed, “That’s one of my favourite poems. When I read it, I think of you.”
You can read more of Remember The Eyes, the first book in the series, at this link. http://www.amazon.com/Remember-The-Eyes-Book-ebook/dp/B004W3VYCE/ref=sr_1_3?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1330797035&sr=1-3