Evening Airplane to Lisbon

He held her close, as close as he dared. Her delicate cheek was so close, and her beautiful throat put but inches from a kiss. He drew right back for a minute, as cultural protocol dictates. But a stronger force advised him forward.”I love you!” he whispered, or wanted to whisper. He couldn’t remember anymore. His ideas and words were lost in the patter of rain and the understanding of the energy in the air that she had mentioned earlier. For one beautiful moment their individual electrons seem to be entangled and then there is synthesis. They had bonded.”Lightning over the airport plays tricks with the electrical systems”, she’d said. “They delay routes as a result of it. It can knock out everything!””Well, she’s right about that!” he thought.Love is available in many styles and forms, and the moment is likely that the minute meant something very different to all of them. No matter! He was flying high at that moment and that is all that mattered. He’d get his legs right back on the floor later. As always, she had her feet planted firmly and properly on the ground. She’d be flying high much too soon.He fussed with the addresses of her bag, and she smiled at his clumsiness. He passed it over and, with the acceptance of an individual who had done it one thousand times before, she connected the fumbled bag to her travelling attire. His and her recent closeness now replaced by the close vicinity of both bags. Since it should be.But the beauty of that physical and spiritual friendship could not be forgotten all was back in place. As she walked down to just take the night plane to Lisbon, or perhaps yet another of those unique locations that has filled her existence of travel, he thought he noticed a tear. More likely it was just the moisture of the afternoon or raindrops experimenting her eyes. Her beauty was renowned, needless to say, yet he’d been lucky to see an even deeper beauty within.Gerry Wood, Sep, 2008 Copyright 2008

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