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Soft and Smooth


“What a dream I had
Pressed in organdy
Clothed in crinoline
Of smoky burgundy
Softer than the rain
 I wandered empty streets down
Past the shop displays
I heard cathedral bells
Tripping down the alleyways
As I walked on
 And when you ran to me
Your cheeks flushed with the night
We walked on frosted fields
Of juniper and lamplight
I held your hand
 And when I awoke
And felt you warm and near
I kissed your honey hair
With my grateful tears
Oh I love you, girl
Oh I love you”
 For Emily Whenever I May Find Her- Simon and Garfunkel

The words that I wish to write haven’t been willing to work with me. I have called upon them and asked them to help to convey the sights and sounds of the secret garden we once walked through but they haven’t responded.

Perhaps it is because sometimes there are no words to express the synchronicity of souls. Two who breathed as one sounds cheesy and crass. The sort of sad line that some have sought to use for less than honorable reasons.

But that wasn’t the way. There was no conniving nor consternation caused by the creation of unspoken communication between us.

The union of two was unsought and unlooked for which perhaps explains why the results were so unexpected. Or maybe that is an unfair way to describe it.

Maybe it is more appropriate to use words like herky-jerky and start stop to detail that day and those that followed.

Sometimes when I think about it I hear music and I see you softly weaving in and out amongst the crowd. I remember long legs and dark hair culminating in dark eyes that seemed to see…everything.

You never knew how badly I wanted your attention or how you made my heart pound. You didn’t see what I saw or hear what I heard. Soft and smooth skin matched to a swift mind set off my desire.

I won’t say how or what it was that I wanted. Not just because the words remain unwilling but because some things remain safer in the security of silence.

Two people found something magical, mystical and mysterious. We got lost in the majesty of the moment and made more than had been before. Mountains were moved and seas were crossed and for ten thousand years time stood still.

Love was lost and love was found. And when the dust had cleared and we saw through the mist we learned that lost love is isn’t always lost…nor is it always found.

I told you that to remember that when you think of me I am thinking of you and slowly I slipped away softly whispering that I would see you on the other side.

This was a post for The Red Dress Club about rhythm. I am not very happy with it, but we do this to practice so that we can improve...right.
If you are interested in reading past submissions you can find a list of them below:

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