Peter Stone

Image by 250432 from Pixabay

He was exciting. He was different. But he wasn't for me.
It didn't flow like the river or soothe like red wine but it had an effect.
The kind that brushes itself against the side of your legs right before you find your hands traveling down to touch its head and invite it upward. 

He reminded me of what I'd missed. What I knew of but never actually knew. He completed my sensationalized fantasy until I drifted beyond the shores with no one to help balance me.  
Checking for the sand beneath shallow water, I caught hold of his eyes. In an instant I knew exactly where I was and with whom I was with.
The excitement dwindled as my feet met the sand and the water began to rise above my head. There weren't any hands there to save me, just a drifting silhouette.
​I could feel the wet of the ocean all around me as my arms and legs purposefully pushed the encompassed water behind me. 

I'm steady on the shore as I was before. I see no one. Just a small boat too tiny for me to fit in. As quickly as it came was as quickly as it left.

davina. s