Current mood:	cold
Entry tags:	poetic prose

The bus started moving and she swung into a seat near the back.
He sat down beside her and she laughed in responce to something he said.
She leaned her head on his shoulder and asked, "Is this all right?"
"No."
Stung, she pulled away. He moved in the same moment, pulling his arm from between them and putting it around her shoulder.
"This is better," he said.
She leaned her head on his chest, and he leaned his head on the top of hers.

---

"You walk too slow," he complained with a smile. "I don't see how you get anywhere."

She laughed and continued at her current pace.

"I know you can go faster than this." He was walking backwards in front of her, still at a quicker speed. "C'mon."

She smiled mysteriously and shook her head. "I have my reasons. Leave me be."

"And what are these reasons, pray tell?"

She stopped, causing him to stop. He zipped his coat up further and waited, as she looked around her.

"The quiet shifting whisper of grass
and leaves
and birds in their trees
are a soft sigh in 'hello'.
The water pools
in jellybean-circles
and shimmering ripples
easing along cracks
that cause broken backs
and further dividing in shadows.
The weather's caress is crisp
but patient, sheltering me from impending snow,
and I walk
and walk
and walk and walk
with careless ease and comforted knowing
that to go quickly through here
would make it transparent
and blurr it together."

There was a pause.

She continued to walk, and still at her slow pace. He fell in beside her, reaching to take her hand, and not moving any faster than she.

"You've abandoned prose?" He asked, amused.

She favoured him with an amused glance. "Autumn deserves better than sentence structure."