Two Elephants in the Endless Sunlight
I imagine we are elephants, two young elephants glowing in the early morning, like figures made out of cast bronze. We run in the field, and play, and the horizon is endless, and I try to keep up with you, but you are faster, always faster, so I run and hop behind you, as I feel the green grass make my paws wet, and I can smell the humid sand around us. You turn around and tell me to keep up, and I laugh trying to bring up the pace, but it’s difficult to accelerate when you are laughing.
No one else is around us, we are alone in this endless forest, ours to play and enjoy the days. You pick up a tree branch, and with the sun behind you it looks as if you were holding the sun in your tree branch. The sun over your trunk, I think, as I pick up a branch myself, and wonder if I could ever hold the sun in my trunk too. But the sun is blinding and it’s too bright, so I have to close my eyes.
My eyes are closed now, but I hear your steps, and I feel the warm air around us come and go. For some reason when I close my eyes I always feel the wind more, as if it only becomes stronger when I am not looking. But my eyes are closed now, and the wind picks up, moving my ears from side to side, and I hope the day does not end, but days always end, even for two elephants like us.
I imagine we are two elephants, who escaped from a circus and found peace in a desolated land, put in earth just for us. I imagine we are two elephants, with big ears and big smiles, with big legs and big trunks, with big dreams ahead of us. We are two elephants in a solitary forest, with nothing else around us but the future.
I imagine we are two elephants, two playful elephants, enjoying the almost perennial sunlight, before anyone tells us we have to go hide. Before I have to open my eyes and check if you are still next to me, before I can’t imagine anymore.