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Love Like A Poem
Love Like A Poem
Love Like A Poem
Ebook42 pages44 minutes

Love Like A Poem

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John spends his days travelling from town to town, a lonely trader who's accepted his loneliness and expects nothing more from life. Then one day he meets an odd, sweet man wandering the lane, a man who's forgotten who he is but who loves books as much as John. John knows it's a bad idea to get involved, but the gentle, clever man is nearly irresistible—and Harris is attracted to John, too. Soon it doesn't matter who he used to be, or what happened in his past, as long as it can't take Harris away from him.

10,570 words 

LanguageEnglish
Release dateSep 30, 2018
ISBN9781386158240
Love Like A Poem

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    Book preview

    Love Like A Poem - Hollis Shiloh

    About the story:

    John spends his days travelling from town to town, a lonely trader who's accepted his loneliness and expects nothing more from life.  Then one day he meets an odd, sweet man wandering the lane, a man who's forgotten who he is but who loves books as much as John.  John knows it's a bad idea to get involved, but the gentle, clever man is nearly irresistible—and Harris is attracted to John, too.  Soon it doesn't matter who he used to be, or what happened in his past, as long as it can't take Harris away from him. 

    10,570 words

    Love Like a Poem

    by Hollis Shiloh

    Out of the back of his wagon, John sold books.  Trinkets and charms and teas and herbs, too, but mostly books, or so he liked to tell himself.  He wasn't a traveler who just made coin off the gullibility of those who wanted good luck—as if such a thing could be bought and sold to strangers, rather than found and earned and gleaned from the land, like wisdom or herbs. 

    No, books were solid things, fragile but strong inside, with words that could resonate in a man's head for the rest of his life, read once and remembered always.  His own father had taught him a few poems, reciting verse after verse, though the man had never learned to read after the way of the gadjo

    He taught his son all the traveler signs, of course: the marks to warn of bad villages and towns and homes.  The marks that meant good trading or kind folk, or those of the blood nearby.  He taught his son to read horses and how to tinker, to jury-rig nearly anything, to fix a wagon when it broke down, and to trade and not come out on the short end.

    He taught his son to stand tall and proud and never feel he wasn't any man's equal.  But in the end, he couldn't teach his son to love women instead of men.  It had been a wonder and a sadness to John's father, something disappointing, something they never talked about—never spoke of or hinted at, a secret in the open.

    If he could have changed to please his father, he would have.

    It was just the two of them, as his father had left his family's traveler group when he married John's mother, a beautiful Italian woman who left her home and family to join him on the road.  He left his as well, because his family was as unaccepting as hers was.  The two of them had made their way along, jouncing down roads and trading here and there, until John came along, and a few years later, his little sister.

    And then a fever came and took babe and Mama, and it was only father and son left to carry on.  John barely remembered his mother, a laughing-eyed woman with a strong face and gorgeous, curling hair.  He remembered more clearly his father's bowed back and the stark black band worn on his arm for many years afterward.

    He'd managed to find regular work for a time at a blacksmith's, and sent his

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