Friday, February 26, 2016


I reached for the glass balanced precariously on the wraparound railing of our back porch. The ice had melted and the cold whiskey went down smooth in a familiar trail of fire down my throat. Leaning back against the rocking chair, I closed my eyes to let my senses turn inwards. The wind had died down long ago, and the sound of the waves drowned out the whisper of warm rain that fell all around me on the beach and into the far horizon.

I can hear your laughter as you race ahead of me to the hammock on our beach. I pause just beyond the range of your outstretched arms as you lay in the hammock and reach for me. Smiling, I look at your face lit up by the rays of the evening sun. Your eyes hold mine. Under the clear blue sky I stand still, eyes caressing your face. In time, you get up and stand beside the hammock, my need apparent to you. Standing facing me, your eyes dancing with mine, you take off your clothes. Slowly, wordlessly, you kneel on the soft wet sand and looking up into my eyes offer yourself. I move towards you.

The splash of the warm rain on my face brought me back to the beach. The wind had picked up again and in the night sky the baleful moon carried on its fruitless struggle with the moving clouds. You stir and I can feel your face against my thigh. Smiling into your eyes, I reach down to caress your hair back from your face.

1 comment:

  1. Much as he seduced wordlessly [and artfully] in this piece, the words written seduce the reader to clamor for more. You are an artist, words are your medium.