Prose

The sinking of afternoon into the air. Mild mellow yellow sunshine. That reflects from the little bumps on your skin. The giggle in our voices. Juices of watermelon and pineapple. Their seeds seived. In tall translucent glasses. Red, the color of love. Yellow, the color of friendship. Mingling into the smells of siesta. Into the humm of honeybees. Static beads of sweat on your temples. The simmering smile on my face. The afternoon becomes you. Then She becomes me. Therefore the faint intoxication in the air. And a distant calling, to just be.

Do we have to grow into anything else? Can't we stay lovers forever.

5 comments:

Blasphemous Aesthete said...

Ah! Beautiful!

But, no. For a dream must be broken for new ones to take form.

Blasphemous Aesthete

Enigma said...

This made me think of a winery where the two people are beginning a beautiful relationship. As always, very vivid and beautiful writing style. Loved it!

wildflower said...

Winery! That's the place we're in. Exactly.

Krish Sripada said...

Pleasurable afternoon indeed!

usha Ramani said...

Colorful and beautiful :)