Watching a Silent Dawn

Poetic Butterflies

Beverly woke to a amber ray of sun shining on her face, warm and comforting. Fuck. Too early. She internally grumbled and flopped onto her other side away from the sunny window, hair splayed all across her face. After an hour of trying to fall asleep and failing, she gave up and stumbled out of her room and into the kitchen for breakfast. Her mother Elfrida was serving up a plate of French Toast when Beverly walked in. Her mother turned and smiled. "I thought I heard someone up and walking around. Morning darling." Elfrida handed Beverly her plate and kissed her on the cheek. "Morning momma. Is it okay after breakfast I get ready and go to the library? I wanna see a friend." Beverly asked through a mouthful of food. Her mother smiled softly. "Sure honey, just be home by 7 tonight." Bev smiled and finished her food in a rush. "Thanks momma! Love you!" Bev stood up and put her dishes away and sped toward her room then the bathroom at lightning speed. After her shower Beverly put her long golden-red hair into 2 French braids and went out the door after grabbing her phone off the stand next it. She took off on her path towards the library where she hoped Ben would be. She smiled to herself before increasing her pace and finally arriving. Beverly stood at the front steps leading up to the library and took a deep breath. She didn't know why she was so nervous to see Ben, after all he was just Ben. But lately for whatever reason, he just seemed to stand out to Beverly. Then just like that, Beverly blushed every time Ben complimented her, or smiled at her, or hugged her. Basically any time they interacted. On top of that, it almost seemed like Ben did the same things as well. Beverly didn't know what any of this meant, but she liked the fluttery feeling in her stomach it gave her. She shook her head and began up the steps and walked inside looking around for the boy with a poetic soul. She finally found him looking through the historical fiction section and decided to surprise him. She walked around to the opposite direction of where he was facing and she silently put her soft hands over his eyes. "Guess who?" She cooed softly. Ben played along. "Hm, I don't know, Stanley?" Beverly laughed and pulled her hands off Ben's face. "No silly, it's Mr. Keene." Ben turned around with a crescent moon smile and a dusty blush painted on his face like a sunset. "Hey Bev. What are you doing here?" Bev smiled and shoved him lightly. "I'm here to see you of course. Now what are you reading today?" Bev gestured to the book Ben was already holding. Ben's blush deepened. "Well, uh, it's a poetry book. One of my favourites actually." Bev adored how he got all shy that he had a poetry book. "Would you maybe mind reading me some? I wanna know your favorite." Ben seemed to struggle with himself before answering Bev. "I, uh, okay. Sure. Let's sit down." Ben lead the pair to a nearby table before opening his book to a page deep in the thick book. “To be in love is to touch with a lighter hand. In yourself you stretch, you are well. You look at things through his eyes. A cardinal is red. A sky is blue. Suddenly you know he knows too.” Ben read the entire verse while looking at Beverly. Beverly got the fluttery feeling in her stomach again and covered her blushing face with her hands. "It's by Gwendolyn Brooks.  He's my favorite actually. Do- do you like it?" Ben asked apprehensively. Bev beamed at him. "I, uh, I love it. Would you mind writing it down for me? I want to remember that." Ben nodded and pulled out a pen and a sheet of paper out of his nearby backpack. "Yeah, of course." Ben wrote the poetry in his neatest handwriting and handed the paper to Beverly. "Actually, would it be okay if you could read me some more? I like the way you read the poetry." Bev asked timidly. Ben slowly smiled and nodded. "Yeah of course I can. It's no trouble at all." Just like that, Ben and Beverly spent the rest of the day at the library with Ben reading poetry aloud and Beverly listening, mesmerized by how gracefully Ben turned words into art, into feelings. The fluttery feeling in Bev's stomach didn't go away until the next day.