Polaroid
A kiss.
A moment to stop time.
Looking back at the past I pull the Polaroid from the box that has rested up in the closet longer than it should’ve. I can recall the memory like it was yesterday. The way the wind danced through his hair as he looked into my eyes on the early Summer afternoon. Colors of sunset started to creep into late afternoon; he couldn’t stop touching my face or hair. Wordless we cooed like a pair of doves on the porch of the small cottage we’d been sharing that weekend.
Teasing me he would lean in too close and lean back just when his lips were about to meet mine. Watching his mouth I couldn’t help but anticipate the moment we’d and licked my lips. The cool breeze was whipping my hair in and out of our small union. Whenever he’d caress my cheek with a finger his lips would dance along the same path he traced. Every touch of his hand sent a rush of butterflies through my system.
Leaning forward I decided to give him a taste of his own medicine. As I slid my hand along his leg, until I reachedhis waist then pausing before pulling his body closer to mine. After I stopped he reached his hands around me to pull me the rest of the way. The wind whipped my hair into his face and against his skin as he reached back to set the timer on the camera. Laughing at his lack of subtlety, we tried to regain our composure knowing what’s to come. With a lift of his hand he pushed my hair aside as the shutter sounded. Hardly distracted by the sound of the click he looked into my eyes and gently smiled before kissing me.
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