To Connect the Pieces, prose by Alan David Gould at Spillwords.com

To Connect the Pieces

To Connect the Pieces

written by: Alan David Gould

 

It was one of those liquid nights that inspire us to describe the enchantment of the tropic night—undulating palms, the dancing breeze, the pearl essence of the moon, illuminating a silver-black sky. The sound of steel drums pulsated dreamily over the edges of the shops and restaurants downtown. The delicious smell of curry and barbequed fish wafted in from the beach. The surf punctuated the night and delighted laughter filtered through the swells.

I was alone with my thoughts, standing at the entrance to the wharf, when she walked up to me. She was one of the most striking women I had ever seen. She radiated an aura born of happiness and the self-assurance that comes with it.

She approached me and smiled right into my eyes. After a long and sensual glance, she spoke to me in a beautifully melodious voice. Drawn in by an irresistible charm, I moved closer. We kissed.

The exquisite fragrance of her breath and the softness of her body were intoxicating, as she pressed her lips to mine. I was transported back in time, standing on a promontory above a golden tundra, caressed by the wind, watching the strands of her jet-black hair dance and sway.

Moments wait only for magnetism to connect their pieces. It is then that our life really begins.

And that was our beginning, all those years ago, never, ever to part.

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