The colors for our wedding, in women terms, are apple and champagne. But, in all honesty baby, they are red and tan. Red and tan. I knew you'd be upset, in a playful way, if I told you that. I let you plan the wedding and I participated in planning it, of course. We have the church, the reception hall, and a caterer and now you were out shopping for bridesmaid dresses while I stayed in for the day, working on a new piano piece that I had made up in my head the other night and I began to put it onto paper. I hummed a melody under my breath, picked up the tempo as I reached the chorus and you walked in the door, huge bags in your hands. You set them down quietly and stood there in a dreamy haze as I played your favorite, 'Claire de Lune' by Debussey.
You didn't disturb me, you waited until the song was over before you walked over to me, standing behind me and wrapped your arms around my shoulders and kissing my cheek. I closed my eyes for a moment and then turned my head and looked at you. You were beautiful with your hair long and eyelashes full with a brush of mascara. God, you were beautiful. I reached and cupped the side of your face in my hand.
"Hi." I said slowly and then I kissed you, long and soft. You drew away with a sigh, smiling widely, but not showing your teeth..
"Hi." you said, taking off your gray pea coat and put it over the back of the armchair by the window. You sat down next to me and rested your head on my shoulder.
I played absentmindedly through my newest song until you said. "I have our tickets to Paris. We're leaving on Thursday, a five AM flight." Interesting, that's in three days. Not much notice but that's okay. It's not like I have much to do.
"Lovely," I said, playing some very pretty chords.
"I'm...actually really excited to go home, I mean...to France." you said, like you were embarrassed.
"You were born there, Vesper." I said to you quickly, tapping your nose with my finger and kissing your forehead briefly. "I mean, that's always going to be your true home."
You nodded and rested your beautiful head on my shoulder. "That's true. I love France. Will you play me something pretty?"
"Sure, what would you like to hear today?"
"Lullaby, but will you sing it, too?"
"I'm a composer, a song writer. Not a singer."
"But, I love your voice." you whispered. I gave in. Even though I hate to sing but I guess if you like it then it's worth feeling like an idiot. I play the piano, I write piano compositions and sometimes I write songs but I write them for my buddy, Clay's band that's really starting to get off the ground. I only sang to you in the car when we were first dating when you were seventeen. That's it. Unless you count the shower in the mornings.
I sighed and started the song, nice and slow. Just like you love it. The intro was my favorite part. It was pretty, a little sad and plus, I didn't have to sing. I took a deep breath and I sang your favorite song for you with your head on my shoulder, eyes closed and a smile in your breath.
Goodnight my angel, time to close your eyes,
And save these questions for another day.
I think I know what you've been asking me,
I think you know what I've been trying to say.
I promised I would never leave you,
And you should always know
Wherever you may go, no matter where you are
I never will be far away.
Goodnight my angel, now it's time to sleep,
And still so many things I want to say.
Remember all the songs you sang for me,
When we went sailing on an emerald bay.
And like a boat out on the ocean,
I'm rocking you to sleep.
The water's dark and deep, inside this ancient heart
You'll always be a part of me.
Goodnight my angel, now it's time to dream.
And dream how wonderful your life will be.
Someday your child may cry, and if you sing this lullaby,
Then in your heart, there will always be a part of me.
Someday we'll all be gone,
But lullaby's go on and on.
They never die,
That's how you and I will be.
"You sing beautifully." You said dreamingly. "Thank you."
I shrugged, sort of embarrassed. I probably was blushing, redness all over my cheeks, but I wont ever admit to that. "I just- I just sing for you." It made you smile, especially if it was Billy Joel.
You kissed me in a whirling pace. My fingers left the keys swiftly and wound in your hair. Lips connecting, tongue's enter wining and we were on the hardwood floor suddenly. Pain rushed through my shoulder when we hit the floor and entangled, but we kept kissing, kept laughing. Love does that to you, I think.