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A Moment In Time - Studio
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A Moment In Time - Studio He rolled over and found an empty spot. The spot beside him upon the bed, was gone save a slight<b> depression </font></b>in the mattress. It was the faint barely audible notes A and C minor that stirred his slumber. The blurry blue hue of the numbers on the clock slowly registered the time to be 2:18. His feet find the cool touch of the hardwood floor. Wiping the sleep and haze from his tired eyes he stands and sees her glasses on her bedside. He makes his way around the bed, shuffles across the floor and out the door. Half way down the hallway his brain recognizes how good the carpet feels beneath his toes. Soft caressing cushion, unlike the cool hardwood that awaited him later in his trek. Several moments later it dawns on him he probably should have put on his slippers that were beside the bed. Each step down the hall makes the dancing whispers sound a lil more clear a lil more sweeter. The haze of sleep still hangs heavy upon him but he is able to navigate his way down the stairs. The cracked sliver of light splintered the darkness of the house. She was in her studio and the door wasn’t fully shut. The cadence of the start stop and pause to the music was her mind evaluating, reevaluating, changing, and changing again the musical sculpture she was carving from her mind. She hummed the words that weren’t fully formed in her mind not on the pyrus before her. He watches her bare feet and painted toes dance upon the pedals as she tries to bring the vision to life. She is lost within herself feeding the world her music. The tired eyes, the fly away strands of her hair. Just her and her music and nothing could ever be as beautiful as what he was witnessing. Her nightgown clung to her every curve and the beauty of her in action filled him with a warmth. This was a sight more beautiful than any framed picture that hung upon the walls or graced the mantle above the stone fireplace. This was a moment in time that made all other moments worthwhile. Her body was tired, her soul was wrestling with the birth of its vision, and her mind sought to find balance. She sang the newly created line over and over. The piano sometimes sang with her, other times she sang solo. Each time there was a new inflection, a change in breathing. He couldn’t really tell which was better. Each iteration all sounded great to him, but knew it all made a difference in the end. She scribbled something down, that would be translated into the final piece. The softness of her eyes had been forged with a warrior’s resolve as she battled the universe to grant her this discovery. To this day he was still amazed at how she created beauty out of nothingness. He was taken back, to when they were walking after supper on their second date. He asked her what it was to write a song and create something from nothing. She had stopped walking, making him follow suit. Pausing a moment later, she replied. “I don’t create from nothing. It more like a garden. Songs are born of emotions, of history, of life. The music is always there I am just the lucky one that sometimes waters the seed and lets the flower bloom.” It was in that moment, he had fallen in love with her. Here she was, years later still watering seeds so the beauty she finds can be shared with the world. At least for tonight, it would be beauty just for her as she tended the ebony and ivory garden. Several more starts, and just as many stops lead to a pause in her process. He slowly opened the studio door and made his way in. Handing the glasses to her. He smiled. “You should have these hun.” She smiled and thanked him. He didn’t want to break the flow but was overcome with conflicting emotions. Leaning down , he cradled her face in the palm of his hand. “You are just so beautiful, I don’t think I tell you that enough. I’m sorry for that. I love you.” She saw the sadness hidden in his eyes from the guilt he felt for not telling her enough of what he showed her every day. Her eyes softened as she smiled. “I know honey. Your fine. Where is this coming from?” He just smiled. “Just wanted you to know you still are so beautiful is all. I will leave you to your masterpiece.” His lips pressed against hers. “Love you hun, I’ll be upstairs.” Her hand touched his. “Love you too teddybear.” Her forehead crinkled ever so slightly as she tried to figure out the randomness of his statement. She smiled as she watched him head towards the door and immersed herself binding herself into the strings and cords that captured and trapped her in this moment. Walking thru the doorway, he slowly shut the door to the studio, leaving it open just a sliver, with their kiss still upon his lips. This way at least, the sounds of her would accompany him to bed. He smiled as he crawled back into bed. The space beside him was no longer empty. She wasn’t there physically but she was with him, as his eyes closed for the rest of the night. |
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Not a very "erotic" piece but was a beautiful moment (least in my head it was) that formed in this empty noggin of mine that i think helps highlight how intimacy isnt always sexual or physical in any way. Intimacty can be simply a connection, and how an innocuous moment for one, could be a treasured memory for another. Not my best piece but was a beautiful moment that was bouncing around. Hope you enjoyed 
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4/20/2017 6:16 pm |
Beautifully wrote as usual Hun. Thank You for posting. The detail brings the story to life. The part where she says Songs are born of emotions,of history,of life.I loved that part. Just sent me into my own world. I like that You write beauty and not just erotica. Its nice to read a piece that is delicate and intimate with meaning that touches the heart. Thanks again for posting, TCWL-Fruity
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Damn jp ... you just keep getting better and better.... it never stops amazing me the depth u reach so well, do the world a favor...NEVER stop, please , the world would be a lesser place without your words to soften it.... thank you for sharing yourself in this way... ty Melanie aka BDG101
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so glad you like it and that it resonated with you 
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