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Their connection was electric, as spring sizzled in the lines and the loins and the ion-drenched air. She loved him by summer, with rose petals blowing across her keyboard. He loved her in the fall, as her plane landed and leaves fell. They ached for one another's warmth through the damp multi-coastal winter; they heated one another to fireglow with their words. He stopped loving her the next spring. Full-time flesh won over; their secret alphabet, memories and anticipations were not enough.
Wilted like early jonquils in a snap mudslide meltdown, she can't see her way to hot days or short nights or the smell of damask and gardenia. She gasps and claws her way back above ground. |
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© 2001 by Utahna Faith
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