He always yearned for that tantalizing touch, the bashful lowered eyelash or the soft quivering lower lip. His search was random, travelling the subway system in search of paradise. Sometimes he would see the swaying cotton shirt revealing golden legs of summer, or the bouncing blond hair kissed by summer sun. It all reminded him of his paradise lost.
But came November with rough skins, the dry cough from a cold that never would give in and the revolting smell from wet unwashed wool. At these time he would dive into apathy, and his search of paradise would be put on hold.
At one such day he found himself sitting right opposite to an elderly lady. The pressure from people leaning over him in the overcrowded car made him uncomfortable. But at least he was glad he had found a seat.
The lady all of the sudden smiled at him, it was an uneasy hesitant smile, but to him it had the sweetness of honey. He knew he had found his paradise as he reached out and clasped the wrinkled hands of his high-school sweetheart.
recall their youthful eagerness
– paradise found
It’s been awhile since I last contributed to Ligo Haibun. This week I thought I write on paradise (I have added a little apathy too).