The fluorescence of those tiny bulbs, accentuating the darker green of the leaves. The yellow-amber of the Chinese lamps. The cobalt blue of sky, in contrast with the azure sea. The red blush of the last rays of the sun.
The grainy, gentle resistance of sand, the rocks smoothed by eons of waves. The breeze. The rhythmic rush of the waves; caressing, awakening, enlivening.
The sour taste of beer, the strumming of the guitar, the lilting vocals, the shimmering swaying bodies- moving apart, yet getting ever closer. A brush, a touch, a smile.
A touch. An embrace. A stolen kiss. An open full blown one. The embrace of bodies, the swaying, the twisting, the madness. Exhaustion.Sitting by the side.
The slow midnight walk, under the soft arc of the moon.
Your room, her clothes, your bed, her arms, your mouth, her skin, your hands, her arched back; the rising pitch, the frenzied moments, the shared crescendo. Union. Oblivion. Exhaustion. The shared warmth. The sun rays on the scattered sheets. You alone on your bed. Normalcy.
Was it just a dream? Isn’t it all a dream?
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