Clouds shelter me from the sun’s harshness, I watch them colour the whole sky silver.

Legs pump as our bikes fly past blurs of orange and red. 

He goes on ahead, trying to ride with no hands, his head flying back each time to make sure I was watching. Of course I was, how could I not? 

 

The trees that surround us glow like a fire, fighting for my attention. The wind whips my face urging me to look, and with it brings the smell of the rich earth. How I adore this beautiful view but I only crave the view of the ocean. 

 

I see the ocean crashing in his Aegean blue eyes. I feel the waves carry me in his arms, the rough sand of the shore in the stubble on his jaw. His voice, oh his sweet melody. But the thing that stole me wasn’t just his voice, or the way he carried me like the waves, it was his heart. It’s the current to his sea. It drags me in, he always left space for me in his world—his heart, a tide that never pulled away.

 

He visits me at work, takes me for lunch after, we sit in the park and talk. My favourite pastime is listening to his stories.

He tickles me while I try to get things done, filling my life with laughter.

He caresses my face as we lay in the sun. 

Warm hands cradle my face while he comforts me. 

He treasures me with his embrace, those nights on the couch. Legs and arms intertwined, his head resting on my chest, listening to my heart beat only for him. 

Those nights where time stopped and he refused to let me go for even a second. Those moments of sweetness. So domestic and sweet, only for us. 

 

But every holiday comes to an end. I now ride with the clouds and those golden trees—but no one turns back to see if I’m watching.