Soft breath came out in undulose roll, a serenity given to understanding incidences of stolen moments receding. Time time time, just a moment away.
All she ever wanted was a muse by her standards which were seemingly not set too high. It didn’t take much to ignite the visionary exacting that lay inside her, but love was indubitably, formidably, the key. The world could speed up for all it wanted, or creak slowly in orbit, if-to-when that one would enter stage left. Or right. Or come climbing down downy, silken spun, dream-fire-escapes and just come on in. The water is oh so fine.
Her inner workings were a scramble. Try she might, but the holes inside were waxing and waning with the tides and the moon. Her fits of full and lonely nipping at her heels just the same.
Sometimes the vibe was self-evident. A physically provable thing, probable thing, displayed in sights of messy hair, tired from tugging. Showed up in baggy eyes, bruised from booze. Achey muscles, self-induced over-workings, awaiting their holy massage.
Thank the greatest ones for her breath. The flowers were with gratitude. The trees felt younger for it. Where she could finally slow her roll and simply believe… just a moment away.
Pigeon Heart Ponderings 