Magpie 102

he sat over there in his hat.  i got braver.  he talked to the colors of the australian sunset that night.  i became a bird.  he did everything he could to get me laughing.  i went from grey and black to red and purple and blue.  he always sparked something in me even at my most pensive.  once upon a time we saw the same moon and that was all that mattered.  somedays i write of you, somedays i sit on the wooden floor and draw pictures in the dust, and yet others i spin about and laugh and get buried in your inscriptions.  it is part one, it is but a chapter today, and when i think of who i am and where i am inspired to be, the road ahead to be that stronger creature, i have to see all that we are.  i am bending back and i am leaning forward and my heart lays there at the table, pulsing, raw, but strong.  each day i feel i am plucked away into a new sensation, a new risk, and each day i hear the music.  you say you don’t dance but you just wait, a little ella in a sterile white room and suddenly we are cheek to cheek, you humming in my ear.  how eloquent and how  many stories there are left to tell, it is a menagerie of shapes and sizes i seem to always envision and yet, this morning i am at peace. there doesn’t have to be rhyme or reason or color or lack thereof.  i only need to know this expression will go on, this day, this brightness shining in.


Anyone who says you can’t see a thought simply doesn’t know art. 

 ~Wynetka Ann Reynolds

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