Sapphic Voices Romance

Innocent Grrls

Let me set the stage for you here... a tree, old, lies across the gently murmuring brook, the bark worn down like old leather, as on the back of those enticing books ... the secret garden, skin peeling on the copy ... but anyway, back to the scene. the brook is clear and swiftly tumbling-hedged in by large rocks that look almost like giant bones, or asteroids ... well.. not really. Cornsilk colored sand stagnates under the fluid flow. Trees, birch, perhaps, spindly swivel and strain for the sky. The leaves mismatch, overlap overhead, casting stained glass shadows down, dappling the backdrop. fresh and new, green and ripeness hangs in the air, the warm, earthy brown smell of dirt permeates the set. sitting on the tree ... remember, the first one i mentioned...is a girl, cradled in the concave arms of the base, where the tree was ripped from the ground one icy winter. she is writing, and thinking ... see how her eyebrows are furrowed in concentration? her long, waifish legs stretch out along the length of the tree ... one propped upright on which she places her Journal... a red leather bound notebook that has been weathered by so much use and being left so long on this broken down tree ... through rain and sunshine alike. her head is bent over, hair bound up and stuck inside a Tam, you know ... one of those rastafarian knitted hats, brightly colored, that hold in the expansive dreads. Her tam is faded from so much sunlight and love. Her tank top thin, smelling of patchouli and jasmine mingled with sweat and dr. bronners peppermint soap. She wears no bra, not that it really matters, but the outline of her breasts curve inward under the shirt. Her shorts are ripped below the knees, unshaven, she is barefoot, callused and happy. happiness such as this, she thinks, is impossible to put down on paper, and smiles... a smile that lights up her face, shines through her wonderfully simple and peaceful eyes, smiles because it really doesn't need to be written, does it?

A new person enters the scene, buzzed head, dyed blond, wearing khaki dickies, boxers rumpling over the top and a white tank top, but a bit shorter and not so waifish. She wears faded puma sneakers, and many anklets on her right foot. Unshaven, too, her legs are bug bitten... scratched and open the same of a summer child who has been running through the woods. Her cheeks are rosy and smiling at the sight of the first. Swiftly yet carefully she picks her way down the brook to the fallen tree. Singing in her soft voice, 'no woman no cry' and pretending to drum with her hands on the air. She hops on and they talk, both relaxed and easy around each other. The next shot is of the second girl lying her head on the lap of the first, the first's legs hanging down the steep sides of the log. She is ruffling the other girls hair ... talking softly, smiling gently, contentedly. A bell rings ... three loud, low toned DING's followed by a pause, and then three more. both girls flinch, their sense of utter sunbeam timelessness lost, and both rearrange into a sitting position. the girl in the tam jumps down, off the tree-bridge, her feet splashing the water, disturbing its clarity. Being so tall, her head is about chest height of the other girl, still sitting on the log, swinging her legs off. Smiling, the girl in the tam lifts her head, to be greeted by the soft lips and subtle giggle of the second girl. Leaning against her legs, upturned heads melt together, smiling in the kisses of sunbeams filtering through trees. kisses about lilac and honeysuckle tea with the milk whirling like a starbirth, a new galaxy imploding a smile, a kiss not caring about the rest of the world, beyond this fallen log, beyond these protective trees, not caring, oblivious to what they will think of the two girls who hold light and love and each other in their eyes.

If you have enjoyed Rose's "Innocent Grrls", then please be certain to e-mail her at  CageSong[at]aol.com  and thank her for posting this Story.

Click here for a list of all of Rose's  Stories and Poetry at  Sapphic Voices Authoresses.