I sit sipping my tea – green tea, properly whisked with all its glorious foam – when my sweet Cheshire mystery taps my nose with his paw, whiskers tickling my chin as feline morphs from vapors into human flesh, striped mohawk mirroring the fur that once was. His smile is as wide and familiar as ever, slightly pointed teeth nibbling my nose as I stroke his hair, his purr rumbling from his throat and into my skin. We need no words, need nothing but emotion, yet my overly active tongue is determined to be occupied with speech, vexing my dearest as his lips lean in for mine.
“What think you on the condition of crows?” I ask, sweetly batting my eyes, seemingly oblivious to the frustrated frown creasing my lover’s brow.
“This isn’t like that ridiculous riddle, is it?” he sighs, frown turning to sensuous smirk, ever amused by my inquisitiveness.
“Crows, not ravens, dear one.” I let my finger trail down his strong jaw to graceful neck, another round of rumbling beginning in his throat. “I have heard that they’re cawing about this and that lately, and that the Queen -”
He shushes me instantly with a kiss – such an intoxicating mix of exhilarating evanescence and solid sensation that it gives me a concussion every time and I fall away from my seat into the wildflowers, butterflies circling above my head like stars.
“Oh, look,” I point absently, dazed, but not in the least confused. “A yellow swallowtail.”
Hand as quick as any paw swipes at said swallowtail, me gasping at the demise of the poor creature, only to have gentle hand open upon my cheek, the wings fluttering against my flesh before flying off into the flower forest. I giggle in delight, the tickling of feet and antennae lingering upon my skin, lips caressing the spot, tasting of pollen when again they find my own. As I am already wasted among the wisteria, there is no danger of concussion, yet still the thing overtakes me, the thing that wishes there was no rabbit hole to crawl back to the so-called “real” world, that there would ever be teas and cakes and butterflies and…..
“It’s time to go, isn’t it?” He kisses my eye, tongue lapping the single tear that always escapes no matter how I scold and cajole it back in its cage.
I nod, fearing I would choke on my sorrow as I always did at these times, when dawn called me from abroad, begging me home once more.
“Not to worry, you’ll be back, you know you will.” My Cheshire evaporates in a swirl of mist, his words echoing like his smile. “And I’ll be waiting.”
Eyes open, cursing the light, damning the rabbit that made that hole, until I feel a fluttering in my hand and I open it. The yellow swallowtail flits around my face, landing on my cheek, kissing me with its wings, and flies out the open window to woo the wisteria once more.
copyright 2012 Spiritwind Studios
I really enjoyed this.
You write very well!
Great work
Thank you