Joy.

There is no room for anything but joy on April Sundays studded with patches of 80 degree sunshine and cool, refreshing spring breezes. The rest of it all gets crowded out to the recesses of our mind. We forget everything but the glory of the sunlight and the whispers of our love. Love is soft on sunny Sundays, murmuring in a sleepy daze and beating in golden time with our perfectly synchronized hearts. So we simply linger on a blanket in the park, dozing beneath the heaviness of the warm air and finding that the world slows down in a beautiful way, on sunny Sundays in April. Time sighs and patiently pauses long enough for two people, blissfully in love, to taste the prolonged sweetness of a perfect afternoon. Here in the sunshine.