Rainy days on an island with a coffee plantation behind, summing up two stories distant. She came out of the water barefoot on sparkling white sand, the moon felt privileged to touch her skin.

Rain dripping down the window plane of the old mansion, he opened the door to let her in forever. Inside holds a big chandelier and maroon satin silk bedsheet, quite a dream, right.

He stares at her like an old traveller thirsty for days, and finally the pitcher has arrived. She was sweeter than the sugar and softer than the rose, Oh! She loved tulips more.

She is mesmerized by how the hair of his chest rests, calm n quiet, yet quite at war. His rusty skin and tired eyes, O' she will keep the remainder a secret.

The room steamed as two bodies melted, the night was greedy and long. The morning only saw the maroon satin silk bedsheet, wet and nothing more. . . Manjushree . 24/08/22.

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