Faded tattered red shirt
Surf Or Die written in white
Across the torn pocket
Comfortable, soft like his hugs
She wears it, hanging well past her thighs
The short sleeves coming down to her elbows
He sits on the couch, she sits on the floor between his legs
Hairbrush clutched in his hand as he gently pulls it through
Her curling chestnut tresses bouncing with each stroke of the brush
He gathers her hair in the other hand, pulling it back, tucking it into a scrunchy
He bends down inhaling the scent of her hair deeply
Before placing a gentle kiss upon the back of her neck
The same nightly ritual before he carries her off to bed
The same faded tattered red shirt , Surf Or Die written in white
Which she wears every night......

Wow....sooooo cool....I love this

such comforting visuals and a wonderful memory of the best kind-because it gets repeated over and over

Very Nice!

Something inside me would atrophy, if I couldn't surf anymore...

The very title of this brought to my mind's eye a surfer woman with a Norwegian long boat happily anchored in the same waves.

Such a silly me!