So very late for the under-the-starry-sky dinner date, the dress chosen does not provide for best catching-up gait. Sounds of a doodlesack reverberate across the hued sky, telling me his patience and presence await as I draw nigh. Feet off the ground, self and heart atwirl in the arms of my bloke, a new warmth gifts around my love in a fleecy scarf bespoke. Thanks in embraced kisses, then fine dining as his discumbent, stories relay with eyes and ears as open as our sky tent, reciprocating to moon’s shine: released fire of feelings pent, truest fate exists when exits leave wonders of where time went. ; )

Categories: Melange

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