Edward’s covert hidden grin[1]
Similes and metaphors, — almost a smile,
Like dew on pasture on a cool spring morning in early May high in the Colorado Rockies shortly after the break of day; or
Like the heat rising from fetid swamps on torrid nights in late July in sweltering Amazonian villages on the border of Colombia and Peru, if that border somehow extended through Brazil; or
Like the twinkle that once lived inside of Edward’s eyes when mischief played him like a finely tuned harp, symphonic rhapsodies on a winter’s eve before the spark was quenched, much too probably by me;
Metaphors and similes, what I wouldn’t give to see his covert hidden grin again today.
[1] © Guillermo Calvo Mahé; Manizales, 2010; all rights reserved
