Beauty Seen is Never Lost

I’m lying at the bottom. Skin to tiles, tiles to skin. My palms pushing against the ground underneath, unsure of what’s holding what. Somewhere out there, there’s a life. If only I could be wave of sound;
a trail of smoke ;
anything dissipating,
anything that could take me through.
Take me back, to it.
To that cloudy morning; walking to the bakery in town; the sky shedding it’s rain upon us. No invisible strings pulling us back, no hands tightening our wrists. Just us, our umbrellas, and a beautiful day waiting ahead.
To that mystical afternoon; Standing on the upper deck of that boat, mist brushing our cheeks, like fallen wishes. Entangled, we were; amongst myths and legends, starring deep into the abyss of Loch Ness.
To that sunny day; sitting on those steel benches, looking down on the endless series of stairs and the outline of a faraway city. Tracing clouds, and wondering how they could look like wandering turtles and floating dragons at the same time.
To that evening in the highlands; tiptoeing on sidewalks, kicking pinecones along the way; laughter engulfing us like a magical halo. Taking away the weight of the world that was once lazed on our shoulders.
To the million lives we lived, in a span of a month ; I could call a lifetime.

Posted by Diddlina at 2:12 PM