The Brown Eyed Dreamer

'Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart.' William Wordsworth


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Memory of a Summer’s Night

A favourite memory of a fading summer was one
Of a warm bass note resonating in a darkening sky,
Where the night slowly cloaked a sea of bobbing heads and tapping feet
And the wafting scent of coffee and rings of cigarette smoke
Intermingled with the maze of music notes that lingered in the air
Long after each musician finished their piece.
Most of all I remember the crisp sweet air that whispered through trees
Above our heads, their branches swinging along with the swaying tunes
Almost as if they felt the music and were dancing with us
To the last few slow numbers of the night.

And somewhere between the calls of coffee orders and cries of one more song,
Between the rising crescendo of applause and the cascading fall of leaves,
Music fading along with the last ebbs of daylight
And silence falling upon the slowly emptying street;
Somewhere between I heard a promise-
That although this night would soon end
And the memory would fade from us,
Soon summer would come back again
With new nights there to greet us.


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The Little Things

The smell of freshly made coffee on a Sunday morning.

Sand falling through fingertips and breeze blowing through hair.

Rolling back over and falling back to sleep.

Goosebumps that cascade along spines when a new favourite song is played.

The feeling of being the only one awake in the world.

Setting down a pen after the last exam.

Waking up to shafts of sunlight pouring through the blinds.

The freshness of newly washed clothes.

Having a child scream your name and run towards you, arms outstretched with a huge grin.

Seeing the sun rise or counting the stars in the sky.

Watching someone smile and blush when you compliment them.

The sound of a piano in a huge and empty hall.

When coloured glass makes bright mosaics of light along the wall.

The musty smell of old bookshops and libraries.

Stumbling across a scrap-book full of memories and stories, vaguely familiar and almost forgotten.

The dull thud of rain against the window.

Babies wrapping tiny fragile hands around a finger.

 Because sometimes it’s the little things which are the most precious, and the most beautiful.


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Sleepy Eyes

We were all sharing a bed, trying vaguely to fall asleep. Everyone else seemed alive, but I was slowly fading, and my eyes were becoming heavier with every second. So tired from staying up all night, I allowed my head to droop down and lean against whatever it fell. It happened to fall on your chest, finding the nook in your neck that was so comfortable to lie in. I snuggled in, my sleepiness ensuring that I felt no embarrassment. And instead of pulling away, you acted in a way which surprised me, but was exactly what I was hoping for.

Your arm curled round my back, pulling me in closer, a knight protecting his princess. Your hand found its way around my waist, your fingers placed lightly on my hips. I curled into you, allowing myself to get as close as possible. Your fingers traced circles on my hips, resting delicately as feathers on my skin. I placed my hand on your chest, and your hand touched mine. A quick brush of fingers, a thousand butterflies waking up and exploding inside me. Looking up at you with sleepy eyes and a small smile, I realised your expression mirrored mine.  And in that moment, I knew this summer would be one to remember.

 


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Him.

I like his hands. I like putting my hands against his and we gasp at how much bigger his fingers are than mine. I like it when we play wrestle, and his fingers wrap around mine.

I like his hair. I like to run my fingers through it and play with it. I like it when he leans against me and the smell of his hair sinks into my clothes and I feel like he’s a part of me.

I like his eyes. They’re blue green, with flecks of gold that show up in the sunlight. I like the way they crease when he laughs and light up like a thousand stars when he smiles.

I like his smile too, and his laugh. He sometimes lets out a small chuckle, other times laugh so hard that almost no sound comes out. And all the while he’s smiling that gorgeous smile, and when it’s directed at me I can’t help but go weak at the knees.