Your hair was dark, eyes a rich brown under sun, and the breeze sent a chill down my spine. You held me close to keep me warm, voice deep, caressing my ears, as I laid on your shoulder. Proclaiming nonchalant intentions that would melt through your mind, sharp mind, and gentle heart. A tentatively explored suspicious bud, our beginning of blossoms, that would eventually flower. In the field, by the pond, skipping the butterflies filling my stomach across the water’s surface. As I peered into the water cautiously, I saw my reflection alone, glowing pink and hot. The longer I gazed, the deeper the bottom became, tropical fish swam out to greet me, born from my pink demeanor. Flooded with a neon embrace, my cheeks turned warm and sore from my smiles. I turned to you, eager to share in the pinkness, but you could not hear me.
Kay Denmead, ’24