Polaroid

 

Water ripples formed as I throw stones.

I saw the reflections of the group dancing and cooking upon the flowing stream.

Chuckles filled in the air, a chilly breeze flow upon my cheek.

And the cold air passing by caused my palm to turn pale, wondering if I can find the warmth again.

And then you came to a Caravan, to take a break from the travel.

I saw you mesmerizing everyone with the charm you uphold.

Then you noticed my shivering palms and kindled the gathered twigs.

The fire filled me with warmth as I started walking towards the bonfire.

You approached me talking about constellations as if you knew I hate small talks.

Everyone was busy humming and swaying, eventually forgetting to the tune.

But we stayed up, walking along the stream, talking about the goofiest moments to the worst nightmares.

My companions spotted us, with me resting my head on your shoulder.

A shutter sound, followed by the flash, made us regain consciousness.

They handed us both a picture, and the world looked so peaceful in the Polaroid.

As the sun rises wide, you had to get back into your caravan and me back to my workplace.

As days passed, I realized we never exchanged our names.

Everything but the names remained concealed among us.

No one on the planet could make me talk my heart out but you.

You were like an ambush of blossoms in spring. The merrier, but precious.

But all that time was in the past. Untouched, raw, and pure.

Standing on the balcony holding our Polaroid, I wished you would be more of my present.

I see us, being content in the blurry Polaroid as my mind wanders along the stream, wishing for the time to revive the moment.