Remebrances of a conversation that floated away with the wind

I remember the stone steps that led up the cliff.

I remember the drone of the sea.

I remember the sun drowning itself and spilling its vermilion blood all over the sea.

I remember the sky trying to be too many colours and moods at once.

I remember the grey-pink waves turning into white froth as they crashed head-first onto the rocks below.

I remember the wind carrying whispered secrets from the waves to the hills.

I remember the wisps of smoke trailing from my lit cigarette.

I remember the wind eating up the smoke, and blowing her hair onto her face.

Her hair... I remember the sun turning her black strands of hair gold by magic alchemy.

I remember how her delicate fingers tucked her locks behind her ears.

I remember that her ears looked transparently pink, and reminded me of a conch in cross-section.

I remember how the sun glistened on her lips as each word floated gently with the wind.

I remember that the wind took the words away from me.

Words strewn in the wind.

I was too engrossed watching as the words dissected themselves.

I saw the syllables float off alone, the lone letter suspended in animation, twirling and soaring up and beyond.

I remember smiling.

The voice of disinterest.

Mundane talk.

Talking because the silence is too unnerving.

Because we think the silence is unknowing.

Scattering words, hoping it will fill the couple of metres of space between us.

Nevertheless, it was silent; except for the drone of the sea, as the waves whispered secrets to the hills.