Curves

 minimalism

The curves of her body reminded him of the gently rolling hills below the mountains where he lived as a boy. 

Her brown eyes were the deep soil of the people's farms.

She was beautiful like the land, like the yellow flowers he found as he roamed the countryside barefooted, like the green trees that sparkled after a heavy rain.

They listened to the sound of the rain on the window of the hotel in the old part of the city. 

They made love to the rolling thunder and flashing lightning of the morning storm beside the tree.

- trevor scott barton, stories for a brown-eyed girl, 2020