The piano plays like pearls pouring over white keys. Curtains drop and screen the sun as I gaze at the dimming light before my eyes turn dizzy and I enter a sweet, short lived amnesia.
Your rocking armchair is a lullaby. Such is the comfort on your bosoms as you hum, gently running your fingers through my hair, shielding my face away from the $un with your long black silky hair. I remember the taste of your lips, on my lips, from our last kiss.