The Sun's Warm Graces

When the sun can be seen shining down through trees, and the asphalt warms the palms of pale feet, Summer can be seen striding gracefully towards the closest river bank. Merrily she smiles reflecting back the sun's warm graces, her hand locked tightly in mine, our pale palms nestled together like two swollen hearts on a softened bed of pine needles. What does she see when she looks into my eyes so softly? When she gently kisses my palm what does she feel? Is it like a gentle breeze blowing over the river there? Or is it like a burning sun that evaporates despair? On the river bank, a robin rests his beak turned towards the sea. Deep inside, as her lips meet mine, a sun burns Peacefully.