4.8.13

the very first




















When I look back at that night, the very first thing to reappear is the skirt I wore. I hear once more the satisfying swish of sheer fabric and the sensation of a long hem tickling my ankles. The skirt sways in my memory, dancing to the guitars and voices. Then, I remember my bare toes, tapping beneath. The evening returns piece by piece. I stood in line for face paint to request stars and swirls on my arm. There were blankets to cover the grassy patch which we had claimed; for lying down and watching the sky blend into dusk; for gazing at lanterns that grew brighter by the moment. Our own lanterns were dark gold and blew out before the sun had gone. I was lying, grounded, with my feet in the grass, but floating up. 

When I look back at that night, the last thing that comes to mind is the shape of the pillow as I dropped to sleep afterwards, the faded colours of glowing stars and swirling lines still visible on my skin.

5 comments:

  1. It looks like a beautiful and magical day.

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  2. you write so honestly and capture the beautiful rawness of life. your words are a treat to read, and your stills always take my breath away. you have a beautiful mind, m'dear. xx

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  3. loving those paper lanterns, i want one in my room!

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  4. There just aren't any more words left except perhaps lovely, and sweet, and just really, really beautiful.

    This just wins it all.

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  5. this looks so magical and special!
    xx

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