Until Dawn

A single speak of time, held still with your little finger as it glides slowly around my lips. I'm dazed by the passion you toss quietly to me, and how long it lasts. Our day turns to night and back to day again, and we think nothing of it. The thirst we have quenched each moment our bodies embrace. That third star to the right is twinkling at us. Just you and I. The moon floats above the sea for the sole purpose of highlighting our silent dance. And the sun… We live in a timeless beauty, a black and white film. And when we wake from our breathless encounter, only time keeps us from slipping again.

Her cigarette hissed in its amber tray, her mind running through these words like children on holiday. The starlight filled her green eyes with hope. But it was late, so very late. She had promised herself more than once yet now, on this brilliant night with dawn quickly approaching, she felt herself slipping, falling through her net of defenses, past handfuls of promises. It would not stop. Not tonight.

A token puff from the remains of an hour old cigarette, the orange glow washing over her soft beauty. A laugh escaped her mind; lips held firm. There was nothing left to do. Crawling into her cool bed, nesting under layer upon layer of blankets, she listened to the morning call of the last night bird. Drifting off into a depthless sleep she remembered that even hope brings with it cruel uncertainty.

This was hardly comforting a few hours later as the phone rang loudly and her clock informed her she was late for work. It was a day that began with frustration. At her office desk seven urgent client messages awaited, the bosses "I'm never late" speech gave her a headache, and the teasing from her co-workers about how it must have been a "rough night" only added to her growing dislike of the day. Sometime after one a dozen vibrant roses were placed on her desk. A smile crossed her lips as she read the card.

Some nights, stay up till dawn.

As the moon sometimes does for the sun.

Be a full bucket pulled up the darkway

Of a well, then lifted out into the light.

Something opens our wings. Something

Makes boredom and hurt disappear.

Someone fills the cup in front of us.

We taste only sacredness.

Her mind drifted over the last two weeks recalling certain details; wondering what he was thinking now. The first time they had gone out -their first actually date after that never-ending game of darts---he had told her such a fantastic tale, something so incredible, that she laughed it away as one would a trashy romance novel. But now she wasn't so sure. Was that her attraction? The mystery? The uncertainty?

The phone was in her hand, the number dialed before she realized what was happening. She hung up before getting an answer. "How old am I?" she scolded herself. "Acting like a little school girl."

The day ended quietly unlike its' beginning. She found herself walking past the café where they had last shared a latte. It was going to be a long summer. Impulsively she reversed directions, heading instead, for the rail office.