The curtains blew gently in the breeze from the open door.
She stared at the intricate patterns of sunlight and shade cast upon the wall by the late afternoon light. Hypnotised by the shimmering pattern and movement, she felt a wave of happiness surge up through her body and transform itself to a giggle as it reached her mouth.
Pink Floyd were turning in the tape deck. David Gilmours guitar solo arced out of the huge black speakers squatted firmly on the thin carpet. Streaks of colour accompanied the delicious sound and intensified with each soaring note, a feast for her raw senses. She felt a gentle touch on her hand and smiled as he reached over and passed her another joint.
A Lovely Poet
1 week ago