Bulbs. Red, blue, green, yellow, . . . Rainbow bulbs. They blink, move,
and the colors run from one to another. Start and turn off in waves. Amuse
someone this night, awake interest and dumb adoration in all who look at it.
Is it like that, and bulbs on
North also? The bulbs which will be created the romantic atmosphere for the
couple of complete strangers? Is it really like that? Maybe. They never met,
never been together, but he populated her thoughts furtively, suddenly. His
gentle words were fulfilling her heart, and his face. . . Well, his black hair,
black like lampblack, his green eyes like deep sea and clear like crystal and
his smiling like sunny spring morning, his dimple in the chin and long fingers
which so softly hold the handle of cup, constantly hovering in front of hers
eyes. How many times she was sinking in deep of those eyes and then she would
be come back in reality. How many times she was feeling the breath and
tenderness of those lips when the image pulverized in front of her eyes. She
imagined his touch, dreamed his smell, but reality will be awoke up her always
with the slap. He is not here. He would be losing in the morning fog, wear off
on the bright sun rays.
But one day, one day they will meet, and like he said over supper and wine,
they will sit side by side, look out the window at night and talk about their
lives. She will melt in his arms. He will dive through her hair and the
flickering bulbs will take them away to a fairytale where they will live, happy
to the end of time.
Yes, but until then? She will still be dreaming of his touch, kisses and
quietly whispering in further. She will be continued to dream how his arms
wandering on her body, how his fingers ruffling his hair, and how she don't
wish end of this dream. She running hers fingers through his hair slowly, then
wandering across his face as she wanted to remember every pore on it, than
slowly down at neck . . .
And then, reality interrupted the dream. And just in that moment their
lips met in a kiss
--------------------------------------------------
Sijalice
Sijalice.Crvene, plave, zelene, zute, . . . Sijalice u bojama duge.
Trepere, krecu se, a boje se prelivaju jedna u drugu. Pale se i gase u
talasima. Uveseljavaju nekoga u ovoj noci i bude interesovanje i nemo divljenje
kod onih koji ih vide.
Jesu li takve i one na severu? One koje ce stvarati romanticnu atmosferu
jednom paru potpunih neznanaca. A da li je bas tako? Mozda. Nikada se nisu
sreli, nikada nisu bili zajedno, ali se on kradom, iznenada usetao u njene
misli. Njegove nezne reci su ispunjavale njeno srce, a njegov lik . . . Da,
njegova crna kao gar kosa, njegove zelene oci duboke kao more, bistre kao
kristal i nasmejane kao suncano prolecno jutro, rupica u bradi, dugi prsti koji
tako nezno grle drsku soljuce joj stalno
lebdi pred ocima. Koliko je samo puta utonula u dubinu tih ociju i koliko se
puta tuzno vracala u stvarnost. Koliko je samo puta osetila dah i neznost tih
usana kad se lik rasprsi ispred njenuh ociju. Zamisljala je njegov dodir,
sanjala njegov miris, ali ju je stvarnost uvek budila samarom. On nije tu.
Izgubio bi se u jutarnjoj magli, izbledeo na jarkim suncevim zracima
A mozda ce se jednoga dana i sresti i kako on kaze uz veceru i vino
sedeti jedno pored drugoga, gledati kroz prozor u noc i pricati o svojim zivotima.Ona
ce se istopiti u njegovom narucju. On ce zaroniti u njenu kosu, a treperave
sijalice ce ih odneti u bajku gde ce ziveti srecno do kraja zivota.
Da, a dotle? Ona ce i dalje sanjati njegov dodir, vrele poljupce i tiho saputanje.
I dalje ce sanjati kako njegove ruke lutaju po njenom telu, kako njegovi prsti
mrse njenu kosu i kako ona ne zeli da se san prekine. Ona polako provlaci ruku
kroz njegovu kosu, zatim luta preko njegovoga lica kao da zeli da zapamti svaku
poru na njemu, a onda polako niz vrat . . .
I, evo,
stvarnost prekida san. A taman su se usne spajale u poljubac.
By DeeDee (23.12.2002.)
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