Painting Description

His hair is clean cut, dark chestnut brown and his eye dazzle a dusky chocolate. He is wearing a simple black suit with vertical, slender, grey stripes down the pant legs.His suit jacket flutters in the cheerful breeze. I have on my favorite black, knee-length pencil skirt and a drapey, gold top. It’s raining. Slightly heavier than a drizzle, the rain, still happy and light, drops around us. The moisture makes me uncomfortable; curls in my hair straighten to waves in the humidity, and my heels are pinching my feet. The air is cool and crisp, and has that tangy fresh sent of wet earth. The damp earthy air has the flavor of woods, and leaves a sort of pepperiness on the back of my tongue. As we are walking and talking, a drop lands on my lips; it is sweet like a summer blackberry and cold as ice. Walking arm in arm, staying close together to stay under the protection of the small umbrella, we chat. I flirtatiously toss my hair over my shoulder as I laugh at his playful teasing. His body is warm against mine as we make our way down the side walk. On one side is a friendly little park. The crimson autumn leaves of the tall trees lining the sidewalk are ablaze, sparkling and glittering every shade of red, orange, yellow and gold. The light from the street lights reflecting off of their glistening, wet surfaces. The little droplets on the blades of grass shine like little diamonds. The rain overwhelms my senses; the water wets my heels and makes the steel grey cement slick. I lean slightly on him to help keep my balance. As I press myself closer, I smile. His strong presence makes me feel safe, and I can smell his aftershave, spicy with the smell of sandalwood and cloves. The pattering of the rain on the road, in puddles, and on leaves, creates a pleasantly calming background to our conversation. On our other side, the street is covered in a thick inky film of water. Passing cars create mini tidal waves of spray that follow in their wake. It is dark and not as well lit as the park. Anything could be hiding in the shadows. Beyond the road, the distant mountains rise; grand in all their glory, piercing purple through the mist. The lack of moonlight produces indigo shadows past the light of the joyfully blazing leaves. The wet ground mutedly shimmers with its own cerulean light. The contrast between the illuminated leaves and the street is stunning, creating an almost portrait like picture. I will remember this walk home for a long time.