[38] – Apartment III
“I told you it was a surprise.
Now keep your eyes closed!”
The boys fingers were wrapped
Around the girl’s face
Covering her eyes
And refusing to reveal her surprise
So very soon.
“Where are we going?
Or is there no point in asking?”
“None at all.”
The boy said, with a smile in his voice
That even the temporarily blinded girl
Could hear his exuberance
And contained excitement.
When the boy finally released her,
The girl could see that she had just entered
Through a door of a small, blank, apartment.
“What’s this?” The girl asked.
“A canvas.”
The boy grinned,
“Your canvas.”
The girl walked around wordlessly
Her fingertips grazing the unpainted walls.
Her eyes sparkled when she finally
Turned to the boy and spoke.
“The map of the world there.”
She pointed.
“Posters and such over there.”
She pointed.
“Small screened antique TV over there.”
She pointed.
“Polaroids here.”
She pointed.
“Blue everywhere.”
She picked a thick brush from her bag.
She found another and handed it
To the boy.
“Paint serenity with me?”
YOU ARE READING
Pluviophile
PoetryIt was a rainy day, in New York no less. One held a cup of coffee, wishing for the rain to stop. One held a hand full of old books, savouring the moment. short story #98 poetry #51
