Cedar Loft ii

It was early Sunday morning. He was greeted by her seraphic smile and the faint tunes of Florence + the Machine’s big, blue, beautiful record coming in from the passageway, which she had on repeat since the previous night.

She had nothing on except his shirt which she left unbuttoned and a pair of girltrunks. How adorable her form, he thought, looking at her – postured upright on the stool before her easel, paint brush in hand. ‘I’m almost done with the portrait’, she spoke softly with a sort of sounding silence. For a brief moment he continued to watch her finishing up the Christina Rossetti painting.

How refined a mind and beautiful a body, he thought – not of the painting but her. How bright her spirit and air. He continued to glare… absorbing her grace. Then he spoke gently trying not to distract her, ‘I’ll get started on brunch. Croissants cool? Much as I love to wake and bake, you know I’m no good with quiche!’

‘Come here!’, she responded. ‘If I do, there’ll be no getting me to go’, he replied. ‘Just come close’, she answered with ostensive head motion. ‘Okay, you asked for it’ he joked, moving towards her. ‘I want you to title it’ she said, looking at him with clear cloud colour eyes. He looked into them then at the portrait, ‘Lyric of Love’ he whispered, without giving it a second thought.

She pulled his chin towards her face with one hand and kissed his lips passionately. ‘Lyric of Love’ she repeated, looking at the work with humble satisfaction. ‘Okay, now go on papi, you have brunch to prepare. Oh, and yes – anything is fine with me, long as you make it with love. You can pluck some cherry toms and basil leaves in the garden, and enjoy your morning bake while you at it. And don’t worry, I’ll work on your bone later, puppy!’ she teased.

 

© Heath Muchena, 2015

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