It’s Saturday.
A Saturday to eat and have a walk.
To sit in the sun and talk.
The sun is setting.
It’s just you and I.
I’m lying on the sofa,
Pillows scattered around,
Computer on my knees,
Nails still wet,
Pink leopard blanket covering my legs.
That’s when I hear you call,
I pause the series I’m watching
‘What?!’ I yell
You poke your head through the doorway
‘The sky looks precious, come see’
I struggle to untangle myself…
‘Hey come help me up’ I call after you
You come back and take the computer off of me
I grab two ends of the blanket like a penguin,
And yank it off.
I follow you into the kitchen,
The light coming through the huge windows
Casts you in shadow,
Defining only your small silhouette
A tiny short haired figure facing the light.
The sky is pastel pink
It sheds a surreal brightness to the scene unfolding,
Slowly electric lights are turning on:
Directly in front; the top floor of the buildings
Beyond; the hills and the red light tower.
I sigh as I approach you
‘Phew, breathtaking’ I say
And then add playfully while nudging your shoulder:
‘The things we miss when we’re busy making noisy kisses,
hein Isa?’
I return to the sofa,
Observing the fading light through the small window,
Your bedroom door is ajar,
Snippets of nostalgic music make their way to the living room,
While I contemplate the mess I’ve made.
I marvel at this perfect moment.
This domestic moment with you.
That reaches beyond physical space.
This Saturday.
It’s still just you and I.