Walking hand in hand at sunset
With the trees and wildlife as our company
The breeze was drawing our hearts more close
Inseparable
Swirling around your shoulders, then mine
Swiftly through our fingers entwined
Carrying a current through us
A blue jolt of love
She smiled with us
Like a good friend, thrilled
She knew we would be together forever
Time looped as I stopped and looked over at you
The breeze danced through your hair
It flowed like a river with long gentle rapids
I lifted my other hand
Needing to let my fingers mingle through the drifting strands
As they sang peacefully to me
The breeze made your hair cool and soft as silk around my fingers
I left them lost in it as my hand held your head
Your eyes glowed like a light show by fireflies
Burning with love for me
I hoped I could watch them twinkle forever
The breeze beckoned me to kiss you
So I slowly brought you in against my chest
The jolt of the breeze and the light of the fireflies brightened
Condensed into our lips
Our kiss, another star in the universe that night
Author Note: Originally published on April 14, 2018 on my poetry Facebook page, Poetry About Love. See link below:
About the Creator
J.M. Powell
You can make anything by writing. -C.S. Lewis
My passion is to spread what it means to love.
My published books of poetry: Quantum Leap Overmorrow
Enjoyed the story? Support the Creator.
Subscribe for free to receive all their stories in your feed. You could also pledge your support or give them a one-off tip, letting them know you appreciate their work.
Keep reading
More stories from J.M. Powell and writers in Poets and other communities.
The Solstice in Bad Gumption
‘How do we go about it?’ The group of three men and one boy shifted from foot to foot around a bonfire spluttering sparks in the bone chilling drizzle, a few hefty stones sitting amid the flames. They were thinking about all the time it took to get it going in this weather. Someone sniffed, someone coughed. They all felt cold and uneasy standing at the edge of the fields sprawling in front of them in the dusk, with their backs to the dripping birches surrounding the cemetery.
By Katarzyna Popiela day ago in Fiction
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.