A beauty of a day, made more perfect by the company kept. They had both been swept away by this feeling. And as they walked along the shore, Angie and Dave were lost. Not in a directional sense, but lost in the emotion of each other. Her kisses were warm and inviting; his caresses were tender and loving. It couldn't be any more complete.
The splash of the water came as a churning in the sand, removing everything that lay on the surface. It also has a tendency to stir what lies beneath. Layers of sand and stone and shells; dead fish and gull decay and seaweed. The persistence of the surf does not offer any rest, constantly peeling back to expose a buried past.
The sound of the sea birds cuts the solitude, an incessant stab to the eardrum. The horizon holds back the grayness of the coming storm; a sign of uncertainty. Angie turns to Dave for reassurance and security, in love and the purity of all it espoused. For the moment, it is all that is needed, heeding the signals that passion stirs. The waves crash further up the shore reaching to where they have taken root. There is no escaping it's intrusion.
Dave stoops to trace a finger in the wet sand, encirling him and Angie in a heart; a symbol of their ever-lasting love. But, the wind whips up, chilling the air as the storm moves toward shore, forcing the couple to rush up the pathway to higher ground. They leave this perfect day behind them; their heart in the sand.
The illusion of perfection is exposed. Life's tranquility hides a tumultuous existence. A cyclical rush of the sea touches all in its wake and the lover's heart is washed away in the coming storm.
LOVE IN THE RUSH OF WAVES
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A beauty of a day, made more perfect by the company kept. They had both been swept away by this feeling. And as they walked along the shore, Angie and Dave were lost. Not in a directional sense, but lost in the emotion of each other. Her kisses were warm and inviting; his caresses were tender and loving. It couldn't be any more complete.
The splash of the water came as a churning in the sand, removing everything that lay on the surface. It also has a tendency to stir what lies beneath. Layers of sand and stone and shells; dead fish and gull decay and seaweed. The persistence of the surf does not offer any rest, constantly peeling back to expose a buried past.
The sound of the sea birds cuts the solitude, an incessant stab to the eardrum. The horizon holds back the grayness of the coming storm; a sign of uncertainty. Angie turns to Dave for reassurance and security, in love and the purity of all it espoused. For the moment, it is all that is needed, heeding the signals that passion stirs. The waves crash further up the shore reaching to where they have taken root. There is no escaping it's intrusion.
Dave stoops to trace a finger in the wet sand, encirling him and Angie in a heart; a symbol of their ever-lasting love. But, the wind whips up, chilling the air as the storm moves toward shore, forcing the couple to rush up the pathway to higher ground. They leave this perfect day behind them; their heart in the sand.
The illusion of perfection is exposed. Life's tranquility hides a tumultuous existence. A cyclical rush of the sea touches all in its wake and the lover's heart is washed away in the coming storm.
I finally wrote one for this, if you'd like to read come on over... :)
ReplyDeletehttp://wordrustling.wordpress.com/2012/02/29/one-heart/
My story today (for Thursday's prompt) also accompanies this photo. :)
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