. . . . . . .night-time. outside the frosted window, the sight of snow falling silently, gently, onto the frozen, snow-covered ground below. inside, warm and cozy. there we are, wrapped inside a mix of blankets, face to face with the cobblestone fireplace. the logged wall of the wooded cabin, all darkened, all for the exception of the flickering light, orange and yellow. a soft glow. a soft crackle, a loud pop of embers. winter night, hold you tight, i need you. caring, sensitive, affectionate, passionate. lights off, fire glow, afterglow. the beating of one’s heart, when the other looks into the others eyes, desire grows. i need you tonight. gorgeous, classy, alluring and captivating. silence speaks a lot, and we are listening to a novel. a glass of white, you are mine, i am yours – i am yours. craving, pining, yearning. wanting to know more, of you, about you. each day passing, learning more and more. to become closer, the feelings slowly creep in. the music stops, catch it on the flip side. throwing another log into the fire. filling another glass, running back to wrap each other tighter, closer. snuggle, holding ones hand, the comfort of the other. turned on to the same words, the conversation rises, and the hours slip by. laughing, knowing and the learning of each other, glimpses of paradise. there we are. and here, on the blanket littered floor, the pillow talk fades into silence, we slowly doze off. the fire slowly burns itself into a glowing pile of ash, and one wakes up to turn on the heat. returning to the slumber, my arm reaches out, holding you gently. // as morning breaks, the sunrise shines through where the curtains came together, breaking my sleep. as i rise, i wipe my eyes and slowly walk to the kitchen and put on a pot of coffee. i turn and swipe the curtain to the side, and look at the world, that is my day. and once i look, i rub my eyes once more, because the sight that is seen, i must be dreaming. i turn and walk to the door, and proceed to open it. you awake from your sleep. good morning, morning-glory. seeing that i am hurrying to the door, you ask, ” what is wrong?”. before i could even reply, my hand quickly opens the door, and immediately, our mouths dropped the ground. and there, to the amazement to our eyes, stood about five feet of snow, packed in, all around the cabin. the laughing starts as i shut the door quickly. there we are, snowed in. food, wood, drink, enough to last. so we carry on and shower. removing the blanket littered floor, and packing them in the chest that sits in the hallway, i cook up some breakfast, as you retreat to the bedroom, jumping up on top the soft pillow-top king. i tray up the food and serve you a breakfast in bed. and there, we share our snowed in day, with no plans, and no work. a whole day awaits, all for us . . . . . . . . . . c.2013 BGW
. . . . . here in this grassy field, tall and green, the sun softly shines; the warm summer’s breeze stirs through the uncut grass. walking through the field, up to the solitary oak that produces the perfect shade for our summer’s afternoon retreat. we lay out the picnic blanket, red and white checkered, and there we rest for a while. and from the moment we sat down, cooled by the shade, with hints of sun peeking through the leaves above, i couldn’t take my eyes off of you. the gentle breeze combs through your hair, and you pull the strands of hair away from your face and guide then to back behind your ear. sun-kissed skin, and the favourite little sundress. i am blessed, just to be in your company. the silence we make, echos the chirping of the birds, a single motored plane fly above. the moment our eyes met, wrote the novel of the moment. and out from within, the contagious smile makes an appearance. out from the distance a passing car speeds by and breaks the trance you had in me, and i grab the basket. a lunch that snacks of gouda cheese, a chardonnay, and a merlot, and crackers with caviar. and after we snacked and sipped through a couple of glasses, i lean my back up against the rough bark of the oak. again, i reach into the picnic basket and pull out my Hemingway book, and open the hard cloth bound book, and started where i left off a few weeks prior. there, you lay your head on my lap and close your eyes and you smile as you sigh and slowly doze off. one or two chapters pass, and off in the short distance, a rumble of thunder rolls. the blue sky slowly fades into a dark storm grey, the thunder rolls louder; the breeze turns to a wind, and the sky flashes light in the clearing down the road. you wake from your slumber and we start feverishly packing things back in our little summers afternoon picnic basket. one drop, two drop fell. we fold the blanket quickly, and head towards the truck. and as quickly as the first step back started, a hard wall of rain drenches, as now we are running, laughing one hundred yards all the way to the truck. forgetting that i locked the doors, i drop everything and stumble for the key, rain pouring and soaking. you comically scream and tell me to hurry. once unlocked, we throw everything in back and slam the doors shut. the rain in constant pour. still laughing we sit and wait. once again, i cant take my eyes off of you. beads of rain drip from the tips of your hair, onto your soft sun-kissed skin. i reach over to wipe the dripping rain off of your face and i lean in to kiss the love that is you. breathe deep, the windows fog, as quickly as it started. as quickly as the time faded, the sound of the rain slowly comes to an end and as i look up, and wipe the window clear, i see the sun peeking out from behind the lagging storm cloud. as we fix ourselves, i reach for the keys, and start-up the truck. as i back out onto the road and head back home, we crack open the windows, and smile. one summers afternoon picnic to remember, falling more in love with you, with each passing day, taking my breath away, making the memories that last a lifetime, making me want to be a better man, i can’t take my eyes off of you. . . . . .
c. 2013 BGW
running back to a true love, one that can never turn away.
the local pub, that is nestled comfotably on walnut street
“buildings sandwiched between buildings that stand tall and proud with history, charater”
genius of water