Many thanks to Ingrid at dVerse.
Blue Mist of Time
Perhaps he visited from another time. A curious time traveler springing through portals. He lived leisurely in this frantic world. His phrases thoughtful, syntax poetic, and words almost archaic.
As a poet, I was smitten. As a woman, I craved.
“What are these? Fungi on steroids?” he asked, turning the portobella every which way.
“Portobellas,” I said. At his frown, I added. “Yes, to the fungi on steroids.”
He nodded set it aside before wandering around my kitchen, scrutinizing, memorizing, cataloging.
“When you are done, let’s sit upon the lake shore. And bring no book for this one day. We’ll give to idleness,” he said.
I dropped my stirring spoon. Wordsworth? We ate jammy eggs while I puzzled.
We never arrived at the lake shore.
His sudden disappearance aroused gossip for weeks while I concealed my broken heart in memories of soft azure mist.