Honey Soaked ....

The candles shone to their brightest delight. The subtle undertones were unfathomable as the lousy moon dragged its feet under the cozy blanket of dark clouds. The music could feel it coming in the air that went around unimpeded. As the petals shied away in the moist of the evening dew, the muddy waters of the pool, for once, gave up their innate unrest for a more eased out dusk. To hush down was so not in the remotest of natures of rustling leaves, and the only measure left was to let them take charge in the surmounting stillness. The mood was set for every star to step down at terra firma and feel the rush by itself.

That was essentially a drape that could never go wrong on a contour like hers. Those come-hither eyes dramatized by sleek stroke of kohl complemented the red of her dress to hilt. His black suit was just right for the night of quixotic rendezvous. Her penchant for flowers was met with serene ardor as he serenaded her with red tulips, which coyly smiled in her exuberant presence. As her untied hair was tossed nonchalantly by the light scented winds, he couldn’t help but realize how his pulse raced and heart skipped a beat – both at the same time. He was lanky tall; she, a petite young thing on a 2 inch heel. Yet, their eyes were no one’s slave in the free man’s land while engaging in a clairvoyant reverie.

As the velvet sky crooned exotica, it seemed time took a turn back for every moment that passed by. She blushed at every sight of his smile that was meant to delve somewhere deep inside. He loved the way her solitaire recited the untold saga of subtle sensuality. A dash of haunting sweetness in her feminine demeanor was far from classic anecdote that would sweep him off his feet, but amazingly, he found himself going weak all over. He was just another man she would meet across the streets, but wanted to know what about him exuded an aura that was getting inexplicably hard to resist, evermore. With every word that was being spoken over the mosaic shades of the candlelight, they sensed a connection- long since dormant, longing to be forged. It was like the sleeping vows that they had known verbatim, springing back with verve.

It was like a note from a beautiful oeuvre that breathed life of its own.

As the wine poured and glasses clinked, they knew – it was mean to be!