I had a dream.
We are in your car, a fixed up TR-6, taken from your brother. The radio retro blasts a Jim Morrison high. You steer south toward the I-5. A ribbon of trees line the hillside. Blood red mingles with atomic tangerine.
I glance left, note how the sun casts light across your face. My finger traces the map of your jaw. You are delicious; I am enchanted.
Camped out beneath starry skies we share stories of who we will become. You are moving up; I am moving on. Wrapped within your arms I feel an unfamiliar touch of forever.
Hoar frost blanketed our tangled bones. Winter winds ripped us open. Upon spring’s return, we awoke- as if from a tale, frozen to a past.
I never told you: I loved our fleeting moments.
you are here for the story
The highs and lows of love. Beautifully described.
Thank you. Or is it- The Wisdom Of Time?
My dear friend sent me an email- “Any time you want to go South, I’ll pick you up. Promise to not stroke my jaw.”
I suppose it could be that too. But would you have wanted to miss the highs?
never