An Island Lullaby
On that island in my youth, streetlights mingled with lighthouses, painting the night sky in hues of illumination. The scent of dark rum rode the wind, intertwined with the aroma of burning tobacco from countless lighters.
And as always, the moon cast her light over our lamp lit town.
That summer was memorable. It was a season of simple pleasures, where your grandmother kindled the stove's pilot light to prepare breakfast, and we welcomed Ms. Anna, the widow, for lunch. I'd sit beside her, captivated by tales of her home in Cuba. A soft radiance from the kitchen door lent her face as she spoke. She wold tell stories of sleeping under the sun’s unshielded gaze, her skin bronzed by the relentless sun. She would flee into the night, with the Moon guiding her path home. From her, I learned the moon's light is not her own; it's a gift from her radiant brother, Seoul.
When we left the house, I would only wear an undershirt and shorts, as the night breeze kept me cool, holding my temperature with her caressing hands.
On our strolls, I dared to dream of moonlit nights with you, somewhere far from the confines of our reality, where time would waltz with us until our last days. Our childhood affection matured into a profound bond, kindling a love that fueled our growth and mutual respect. You knew I had love for you whenever I looked into your eyes. But I didn’t know of your love for me then.
I knocked on your door and you answered in your underwear and bra. I teased you about being so comfortable with me to the point of never getting a formal welcoming. After our dinner, we fell asleep on the couch, and woke up late that Saturday afternoon. When the sun was standing high I went home to change and you went to work.
After I cleaned up and showered, I visited you at that little bookshop you worked oh so tirelessly at. I waited for your shift to end, and as I sat in my car, the incandescent bulbs of the night named my skin different colors. We left to the local drive-in, showing “City Lights”, and stared off onto that silver screen.
Nothing we would do or say would ever move us into the world I wanted to live in. Nor would I ever attempt to change this life we live, seeing it suits you more than me. I knew that we wouldn't exist to see the end, and this time we're given is limited. To be reminded that any desperate acts to be forever will bring me one step closer to the inevitable climax of this story. But that didn't matter now.
The world wouldn’t shine light on our situations, but just for two hours, it felt like it was ours.
