As we stroll,

the dusky pink of a morning sunrise 

turns the fields to candy floss. 

We get sticky and wet 

from the sweetest dew.

I stifle a yawn, 

and the softness and scent 

of moisturised skin 

briefly brushes the redness

of my sun-flushed cheek.

She smiles,

all dimples & eyes of blue serenity.

And, for a moment,

there is no world but us.

 

Later, we would shop

within the cobbled streets

of old Durham.

Sip coffee under the cool

of whirling fans,

watching the passing smiles.

Words unneeded.

Just the simple touching

of outstretched fingers,

and secret smiles of our own decipher.

This day 

that ran away with us.

Too soon 

the dusk cast long shadows,

and we found ourselves

caught in the illumination 

of the Cathedral.

Taking photos. 

Capturing time.

The old & the modern:

devine architectures

of flesh & stone. 

This day

when the world seemed unbroken.

Seemed like ours alone.

 

We strolled back to the Inn, 

meandering in idle bliss

until the crescent moon, 

with its lopsided smile,

finally, 

bade us goodnight.

 

photo by Graeme Hall