The Blue Breath of a Summer Siesta

The city is a drum that never stops beating, but here—beneath the emerald canopy of swaying palms—time has forgotten its own name. I lie cradled in white cotton fibers, suspended between earth and ether like a single note held long after the song should have ended.
I hold two blue dolphins close to my heart; they are soft anchors for a soul that often drifts too far into concrete tides. Their plush bodies carry no scent of salt or sea, yet I feel the ocean in every breath—a rhythmic tide rising and falling against my skin.
He is not here now, but his presence lingers like sunlight on linen. He told me once that urban life was merely a long walk through an endless corridor; he promised to build us a garden where we could simply be still. This hammock is our sanctuary—a woven nest for two tired spirits.
I close my eyes and feel the gentle sway, a pendulum marking minutes not in seconds, but in sighs. My skin hums with warmth; my thoughts are petals caught in an updraft. I am waiting for him to return from the noise of glass towers, so that we may sink together into this blue silence—two hearts beating slow, two lives becoming one soft melody under a summer sun.

Editor: Lyric