Where I end and you begin

Douglas Adams once wrote: ‘He felt that his whole life was some kind of dream, and he sometimes wondered whose it was, and whether they were enjoying it.’

I’m parking my car, take of my keys and look in the mirror. I smile, I don’t even care if I look good or not, I feel good, that’s all that matters. Look at her standing there…the familiarity off it strikes me, like distant memories of joyfull dreams.
“Where are we heading for?” she asks. I probably sound like Bilbo Baggins when I answer: “Wherever the road might lead us,” but she laughs anyway…

We end up in my favourite Irish Pub. She’s impressing me by ordering my favourite beer, and she even likes it. A girl enjoying a big pint of Murphy’s Stout…a sparkle in her eyes, the brightest colours in her smile. We’re talking about our youth, about life, about dying,…
I think I’m falling in love.

Half past five turns into half past six turns in to half past seven…turns in to half past ten.

At the trainstation she’s asking me to play my blues harp. I’m nervous for I’ve never played in front of other people, but I want to play for her. My notes sound like crap, but she seems to digg the sound. I feel her finger drawing lines on my back. I gently pull her close to me, I’m breathing her hair, I’m tasting her sweet perfume. She turns her head to mine and softly touches my lips with hers. A fountain of joy’s exploding inside me…I’m trembling, for a second I have no record of where I end and she begins.