Yohannon (yohannon) wrote,

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I Wasn't Dreaming When I Wrote This...

I felt her lips against mine, ever so lightly. I could smell her sweet breath, even before I was fully aware of the kiss, moist and regretful against my skin. I opened my eyes, just as a trick of the barely risen sun, still captured by the eastern hills, glanced through glass over a hundred years old, rippled and antique, to create the dual effect of a golden shimmer across her features, tracing out her ample curves, and casting a golden glow that seemed to cause the gloom to creep off sullenly, it's dark fun spoilt by the joyous vision before me.

Roni said later that she saw my eyes flutter open, and I made an odd, almost cooing "Ooooooh", barely a word, more a primal realization that this wasn't a dream, and that I was really seeing what I was seeing. My only regret, still waiting to be born at that pure moment in time, was that there was no way I could photograph it. I could truly call my self an artist, a master, if I could even capture the shadow of her beauty.

And this, my friends, is how I woke up today. Anything else, good or ill, means nothing after that.
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