A Poetry Break

Outside
the sun strains to slip through the cracks in the clouds
Inside
Victor has turned the lamp so the bulb casts its spell over me
I can close my eyes and pretend
We are back in Jamaica
My face in the sun, protected by the thinnest layer of SPF
I am drawing careless circles in the sand with my fingers
He is stroking my hair, his fingers turning pink in the sun.
He lies in the shade, still slathered with sun block.
He warns, my nose is pink. New freckles are sprinkled along my Irish cheeks.
But I just smile.
My mind is far away. My body feels light.
Like the clouds. I count them. One, two, three.
And then they are gone.