Reading on the Veranda

Pink lemonade hazy in the sunlight as the rim of a cocktail glass is

rounded with salt. Filled with an orange liquid as we read in silences,

pattered with text messages, sun beams overcast in the sky by the

blue and white. One minute its light, the next we are in shadows.

We acknowledge each other with a glance from the corners of the

veranda where we sit, opposite sides of the bar in the summertime.

Our words glisten in our eyes, dilated by words of a sunlit page,

we hold up our books. Covers glowing - plastic coated library novels.

We are stories, wrapped in stories, words without speech.

We continue to read. We continue to escape.

Knowing that even in the real world, we are not alone.