And I still remember the first time you were there. Spring or Autumn, or whatever in between – turning around all fell silent and golden. A turn in blissful sweet glaze and you! Since then: Lingering around, searching those grey hallways & endless staircases between shades and lectures – sometimes! observing the sun rise in your waves. Swimming through days and
ending up in sticky, dark waters – without a word!
There you were – close. Finally. And words stumbling out of me, falling from my narrow lips. Slowly & silent. You compared your hand against mine – I remember: I loved your touch. Your hand shaping mine, yet not taking hold of it. Then you let go.
All was pure summer – yellowish white blazing sun. The world was gold. But don’t ask me about seasons! Light shaping our way. Long afternoons in the park – the tictoc of the Jeu de Boules, blinded by the red of your sunshine. When words had left me again. And you. You wouldn’t stop teasing me. Investigating the whereabouts of my sense & senses. Digging constantly – deep into my being. And I just smiled your questions away. And succeeded. Mostly. Miserably.
We walked – back & forth and back & forth – through endless fields of gold with no destination but the middle. And I agreed to answer you – back there in the middle where our worlds were already one. When the light summer’s breeze stopped whispering through the shiny grass and we let ourselves sink into summer’s gold, my words exhaled, flying on light particles, and
when entering your consciousness, I didn’t see a single glimpse in the deep shiny grass of your eyes. For a moment: I was afraid. To fall
Out of Summer
But the golden light held us there while you took hold of my hand. Then: we had to part. That moment of fear; and silence took me away. Your infinite green pulled me inwards, your hands reaching for mine as your lips sweetly laid sunshine on mine and I rushed home on waves of light.
That Summer’s Sun belongs to you.
© 2015 by La Ravalera