amberwench

walking through the park together, leaves crunch and pop like fires underfoot in the silence that twirls outlines of deep indigo around the puffed cotton ball clouds that meander through the lazing August late afternoon. night begins to fall on the stewed ground and as the horizon buckles and the sun vanishes away, waves of deep blue and black track across the sky, tripping on the tiny quilt patten stitches of pinpointed light which begin to spread their fingers in the darkness of the eve. my hand clamped in hers, our knees buckle into the grassy shore of the silver lake nestled in this secret hideaway. hooking my hands on he