Tuesday, November 1, 2011

Before the Rise of the Sun

They call me Jingga.
There is indescribable beauty when you see me walk.
I run like the wind.
Fast, but soft;
like a fingertip of a lover that touch your cheek gently.

He called me Jingga.
I came toward him while the moon kept watching over me.
He looked fine, as always.
Just one lovely curve on his kissable lips
and I'd be his all night long.

He called me Jingga
and put his palm gently on me.
I'd promised myself not to go anywhere. I'd told myself to stay.
But the look in his eyes made me beg him,
'Take me wherever you'll go.'

The saddle was put on.
Two creatures became one;
then walked slowly on the side of the meadow.
We both saw the reflection of us on the lake
made by the moonlight.

As the cold breeze blew
and bothered the silence of the branches,
he called me, 'Jingga.'

'It's Sunday already,'
'we've been together for two days,' then chuckled.
If I could say anything once in my life..

He called me Jingga
and thanked me for the walk.
The dawn was coming,
I saw myself on the sky,
and the moon disappeared.
So did he.
So did the euphoria of mine.

Lots of Love,

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