Dawning Creations

The sun tucked himself behind the clouds, sleeping in that day.

The monuments stared in silent amusement, as we scuttled about them.

Weaving in and out between cool stone, we posed ourselves.

I didn’t want this moment to end.

The trees were in full bloom, the temperature warm and cool simultaneously.

Sweet perfume swarmed my senses, like the honey bees, pollinating the blossoms above my head.

I watched as the busy bodies dipped low into the flowers, resurfacing effortlessly.

I stood so close I could almost kiss them.

I did not want this moment to end.

Off went my shoes, shoved under a park bench.

I sat, my camera around my neck, not judging as I looked at you, grinning like a guilty child.

The concrete was soothing and warm on my bare feet.

I stepped warily into the hanging limbs of flowers and bees and positioned myself for more random flash photography.

That moment couldn’t last long enough.

The sweet perfume was enough to make me lose sight of everything, sensory overload.

I’m in a trance, thinking of this, sweet meditation.

Moments like these, they end too soon.

Immersed I became until it became constant, even in a separate place.

I can return on my terms.

I can close my eyes with triumph on my hardest days.