The sound of her laughter
bubbled against the walls of the rock shelter,
above the sound of the rain beating down.
He looked at her,
clothing plastered against her skin,
a dribble of water trickling from her hair
to her cheek,
to her chin,
her eyes shining with the moment,
the mad dash out of the meadow
and into this cave.
He pulled her close,
his red clad arms moving jerkily over the wet fabric,
her small hands finding their way past his wet, silver hair.
Suddenly, the laughter stopped
as he lost himself in her eyes
as she drowned herself in his.
“Better get out of those wet things,” she murmured.
Happily, he complied.