I’d find him awaiting me by the door; a wide grin painted on that handsome face with a large bouquet of white roses sheathed artistically in fine red paper. I’ll dream of soft lips melting into mine, desperately resistant to withdraw. But withdraw they do as we climb into a black Jeep, setting course for dusty pavements as we fight for control of the iPod. He’d take my hand, planting softly enchanting kisses as he drove. Sunburnt landscapes blur brilliantly like a Monet while a cool, calming breeze blows through my hair. We’d reach our destination, a place were the air tasted of salt and Palm trees sprinkled the sands. We’d lay there, watching gossamer clouds drift, stealing a kiss or three periodically. We’d talk of fanciful things, of tales, of hopes and dreams. We’d get lost in one another, losing all track of time, at peace and beautifully content.
This Valentine’s Day I’ll laze away, dreaming of him.