An hour to midnight.
Two people watch each other intently.
Total strangers, yet drawn by strangeness.
Exchanging glances, both gentle and probing, alert.
Delirious to some degree, purposely waiting, hoping for midnight.
The full moon swells in proud silence.
Water touches the sand,
like a lover running smoothly back and forth in the slight breeze,
leaving wet kisses now and then.
Her feet slowly carry her to the shore.
Her nakedness seemed so perfect, so pure.
As if goddesses were easy to find.
The smoothness of her thighs, the supple breasts.
The glistening beads of water on her hair.
He was already in the water, this beautiful man.
She came to him because he had such sweet smiling eyes,
like nothing could go wrong.
They splashed about, their laughter echoing into the night,
breaking the stillness.
They frolicked and swam, unmindful of the trees.
The island was theirs, at least for the night.
It was then that he drew her close, anxiously.
She offered no resistance, feeling his nakedness beneath the water.
And she was actually welcoming it, her breath rife with her feelings.
What is this desire, she thought in disbelief.
It was edging to devour her, making her heart jump.
They kissed, like lovers separated by time, mad, wanton and reckless.
They caressed each other, each touch leaving fire in its wake.
They could stand it no longer.
And the sea seethed with their excitement.
Where did the moon go?
It starts to pour, and the wind howls from nowhere.
The water is angry now, the sand in mute witness.
But they were madder still.
They could not stop, and the leaves were shaking, swaying frantically.
They would not stop.
Until finally, jagged bolts of lightning rip across the night sky.
Ah, soft, steady, pouring rain.