The lightness of our conversation was the same as the weather
Light, warm, full of banter and changed every 5 minutes
All in a day we were connected by vines of music, comics, clothes and whatever
I laughed, you laughed, I teared, you cried
It was nice

Then you called me perfect

In that moment I was perfect

As you see me now I am perfect
Beautifully and wonderfully made


My heart belongs to Him and to get to Him you must look within to find the light that illuminates the dark … voids filling with sugar that seeps through the crevices and drives the momentum until one day you sit still and reflect in the wind and say….what was the point…..the point is simple….Light


A woman’s heart should be so hidden in God that a man has to seek Him just to find her

– Maya Angelou




How could I forget….

I was there,
I saw what triggered my fingers to relieve the distance that we hadn’t walked before,
sweet sweet smell of flowers I hadn’t received before.

Lies lay still, tomorrow is the day we kiss goodbye my friend,
until the end we shared….a simple wish,

to be happy…
How could I forget,
It was the music we shared,
the Truth that brought love to enjoy moments like this,

How could I forget,
I was caught in a thought between your eyes and your smile,
not hearing any sound for a while,

How could I forget,
the split second of attraction that made me weak,
your laugh that excited me and your joke that was just not funny

How could I forget that in all this…
my hopes of seeing you in the same light will fade away because for a moment…
I was lost and you were….young

Inspiration…..moments like this



She waits…..


All alone in the twilight hour….she waits for her mind to catch up with her lifeless body…just so she can rest for the night. All thoughts are processing, replaying and pausing and deleting. Trying to forget or remember or leave all behind. She waits with patience while her heart reloads for the next round of flashbacks. All she wants to do is rest without worry but the sound of her amplified breathing makes her chest feel heavy….for what but nothing to recall.  Slowly she calms as her mind becomes in sync with her body and her body is laying still……silently she waits and she will still wait…until the mourning

My Inspiration…..sleepless night
My Topic…
My Opinion…..stated

Just on my way…..

Exchanging words, he looks at her with a kink in his smile.

His body language changes without warning. He shifts and rotates himself away from her, legs crossed and arms retreated…the typical body language of an outcast. Clearly hurt he remains soundless, his male ego hurt from what is presumed a rejection of a sound idea. She continues to mark the printed paper in red but takes a break to observe the expression on his face. A quick nudge….no response. His gaze is transfixed on a gentleman’s shoe just ahead which were dull and over worn…..he is now lost deep in thought. The corner of his eyes are creased and his lips slightly pierced, it seems no one can penetrate into this man’s mind.

Was it the piece of paper, the disagreement…or the uncomfortable stare from the girl with the orange scarf sitting opposite. Who knows. I leave the carriage and capture a glimpse of remorse, perhaps a reconciliation. The train rides away in the opposite direction and I walk up the steps ready to make the journey home with no knowledge of the conclusion of that story.


My Inspiration….the couple opposite

My Topic….it’s complicated

My Opinion…..stated

The unseen journey in their hands….

Walking side by side, hand in hand they enjoy the world together once more like they did all those years before. From the outside, it appears as if these frail beings hold one another for the physical support. It’s only with their eyes can they see that time and patience has preserved love that saw sparks ignite in the hours of midnight. Truly he cannot relinguish his grip from hers, fearing that the beauty which once cradled his grieving chest would leave foot steps echoing in an empty hallway. The fear triggers a familiar sense of self afflicted lonliness governed by his self desire for a touch, a squeeze and money in the night breeze. *CLINK* *CLINK* The sound of  fluid running through the pipes and releasing itself onto a stained coffee cup. Dinner for one…again. Continue reading “The unseen journey in their hands….”