Mid-day, clouds overtook the morning open-blue. In the air, even in indoors of the room, they felt the change, its shift to cool with the shading of the sun that dimmed their world around.
Still, there was joy and mirth of the morning giving brightness to room and spirits. In further of clouds, light rainfall came with voice of low, long thunder rolling high in the hidden heavens. They smiled to its sound and resonant roll in vibration through their flesh.
In the overcast, the light-fall rain, and slow-of thunder’s sound; they sat at island’s rest in center of the room. Across from one another, exchange of eyes and smiles and laughs, they wrote each other stories that were told anticipations of to come.
Stories written, exchanged hands, they read the stories, written words, and effect of these in other.
Return of the blush, like daylight’s first, skin rosed for the other’s see; she in wait—for his first move—to live them all as true.