A story

 

It's two am on an August morning

the air's balmy

and he's on the other end of the line

and she's past waiting.....

 

Scars turn to tales and tales turn to rain

words turn to kisses, kisses that obliterate excruciating pain

disappointments are flooded with dreams

the world, still a little grey, slowly turns pink in the realms.

 

He sits organising his thoughts

she sits wrapped in the luxury of the messiness of hers

both sing a tune

both carry a smile....

 

The pages of the book turn a little yellow

the column a little rusty through the sands of time

and even though their melody is a little mellow

she still cracks him up and he still reads her like a dime....

 

the smile, the touch and the kiss

the state of unfailing bliss.....

the song, the dream and the story

you could say the rest is history.....