JamTrotting the Globe ~ Uniting Music, Travel & Cultures

Someday Morning on the Sea – A Fantasy Story

BE WARNED s t e p  a w a y!  Unless you are a hopeless romantic like I am…then go ahead and read on…

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Having said that…I like to write. I like to blog. I like to be romantic = writing what I like, and since this is MY blog, oh heck, I am just going to say that I take my own poetic license with a series of short stories called…wait for it…SOMEDAY MORNING! Call it what You like, but if I meet a *muse* while I travel, and that can be anywhere, in any place or a simple conversation or a breeze in my hair, I may dabble a sentence or 2 or 3 and out pops a silly Romantic Travel Story. * deep breath * well here goes…

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Someday Morning On The Sea

The Moon was like a halo, a sacred circle of light. The island seas were calm except for the glistening lights reflecting off the stars in the blackened sky. The temperature was a cool breeze that brushed against our body’s with ease.

It wasn’t the first time he felt her Siren call…he couldn’t stop from pulling himself closer into her belly’s warmth. He could feel her silent melody, note for note, just like he could feel the rhythm of the sailboat as they swayed to the music of the tides. She was a dark haired raven beauty with a heart as pure and real as the treasures hidden beneath the sea. The curls of her hair were the kind of coils you wanted to pull and hold on tight.

He was her Sinbad, her Captain, bearing his salty scruff of aging gray peering through his flesh. He was a ruggedly handsome man with hair the color of the tide’s white surf. He had a look about him that caged her, a voice of many places that promised her, and a home that never kept her. He rarely smiled but had a kind of mysterious pause he’d stare at her with…of which only she could feel and decipher.

Over time, they became bewitched by each other, a calling that neither could deny....
there was no escaping...the song of the Siren and the Sinbad of the sea.

They came together once…like a rendezvous of two ships passing in the night never to be seen again. And yet, there they were, taken into each others arms, holding each other like rope as they lay in the hammock held by the sails of the wind.

Passion was not their word….they had gone way beyond…to better days of serenity. Of pleasures so worldly they would never share with the likes of their small island clad. A bond they made as strong and as fragile as the beaten sea glass they collected on the shores of many lands.

The night hours passed like sand in an hour glass and the celestial moon was slowly replaced by the twinkle of the suns golden rays. And there, they sway in each others arms, her on his bare chest and him tucking her hair over her ears with the light of day peeking through them….both thinking to themselves…Someday Morning

~ CL 2015
For S… drawn from passages of words and thoughts we shared

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