Words
There was a time when words oozed from me – fluorescent , flirtatious, effervescent, sensual, crazy.
They would just come to me – dancing like wind-swept wild flowers in a spring field, like jumpy-feet toddlers running into their mothers’ arms – and surrender to me unquestioningly.
I would then lovingly string them into endless beads of random prose and hearty poetry. And they would stay – shining between the yellowing pages of a tattered book, preserving their aging fragrance for a day like today.
A day like today.
Today, as I stood wordless, stripped of inspiration, bared beyond care and pointless to a fault – I flipped through those yellowing pages once again…and down they fell – the aging, loved-up beads.
They still bore a sweet remembrance, a mild fragrance of motivation and gave me back my words, the way they were - souvenirs of time.
And, once again those wild-flowers danced.
It’s been a long time coming. Long time.
