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