SILK

Silk. It reminded him of the glorious sea waves sliding over each other. Of her smooth body in perfect communion with his. Of her lovely coil of black hair snaking down her bare back. He picked up his pen and began to write. Swirling thoughts in his head made him incapable of capturing them on paper today. Exasperated, he pushed back his chair and with an impatient flick of his hair went outside.

The sky was a purple bruise over the dark ocean. He wanted her desperately tonight. Time stood by and watched him, as he lay down on the sand and stared at the velvet sky above. The stars twinkling there reminded him of the glittering lights that would adorn her huge mansion tonight. Through a film of tears, he saw the stars move from their places and drop upon him like liquid fire. His eyes burned, his heart was ablaze, kindled perhaps by the fire before which she sat, in her red and gold silk sari. Silk on silk, he would say, every time she had draped a silken sari around her silky form. He could never have afforded one. But, that had never deterred him. He would drape her form with gossamer words, he said, or with velvet kisses.

With a start, he got up and walked to the ocean. Of what use were his words now? He kept walking. Silk on silk… he smiled and walked on. He remembered those silky arms twining round his neck as the waves closed over him.