In story, he saw again that which he thought gone—moments and memories believed lost in live of the evanescent. By story, they returned—sights and see, sharp and clear, in live and new again: a child innocence, her merriment of mirth as she twirled in dance in open field and sun; the fan of her hair, its furl in spread resplendent in the movement, her pendant’s gleam and smile’s shine in showing of her joy; the great stone hearth, chair beside, velour of romance hue—sound of rain on metal roof.
To story he smiled, by it, remembering all as new again—reverie for a lived then.