I: The Garden
The gardens were lush around us and entranced by the possibilities in the day, in each other, we didn’t notice the mugginess. Or the clouds gathering slyly above the hibiscus hedges.
Then suddenly, sleeting against our faces, the rains came.
We ran through the gardens in the rain - your umbrella blue, mine red - bumping into each other in our frantic hunt for shelter.
Then, finally, a pavilion! Breathless , shaking with laughter, we settled comfortably onto the ground.
Then you told me what you had to say and I lost my breath all over again.
II: A case of you
The first time you kissed me, it poured.
Another frantic search for shelter,running madly about streets lined with shophouses, painted in pastels and all streaked with rain. But this time, just the one umbrella.
Your arm comfortably around my shoulders and the sudden knowledge of where this might go.
I was wearing your t shirt, green with stripes and smiling, my hair wet when you reached for my face.
The rains receded as we nursed the growing child of unease, breeding closely and quietly in our bellies.
The end was quiet, a relief - no thunder or lightning – just our voices in a candle lit room, echoing off the walls.
When you walked me out, I looked up and noted – through the pain – that the skies flaunted white stars, a moon.
That it was bone dry.