and all of its people,
make me think and
dream and do.
I've had a really perfect two days,
my end of shift last night
melted into total loveliness.
Then Saturday arrived ~
with all her promises
of coffee in the quaintest of places,
and paintings on the wall that
you remarked on.
I didn't even see them.
I could only,
see you.
Years flew by in the moments
of your eyes.
The world didn't feel heavy today,
in fact,
the opposite.
It felt as light
as a kite flying in the sky.
When the words soak into and straight
out of my pores again
I always wonder
will they know what I mean
when I write this?
Does it ever really matter?
To the New Yorker or
the Amish
or my dearest Kess
or my beloved Lorraine in Wales
who always loved my words?
This world.
And all its people.
They make me dream,
and think,
and do.
The world and its people make me think and dream and do, too, sweetie. I think they are the reason I write. I see someone or something in the street, one of those moments in everyday life, and I am inspired.
ReplyDeleteI like to think I know what you mean when I read your words, but I think it's more complex than that. I think a million people can read the same thing, and every one of them take away something different. I'm sure people understand and appreciate your overall meaning, but I also think your words help us to form ideas of our own too. If that makes sense?
AML
Kess
xxxx