Swirling thoughts
day 1
A cluttered mind...sometimes I wish for the ability to siphon thoughts out....to sift through them and let the chaff fall to the wind. There are so many things that should be forgotten, and so many that must be remembered: like the way he folded his hands as if in prayer his tiny and long fingers so serene, that he was mine. The glittery look of frost on fall leaves illuminated by the silvery wash of the moon. The sound of her footsteps next to me. The excitement and thrill of the first kiss, the rush of emotion and exuberance. The feel of her hand caressing my hair. The wonder that he is mine. Fiery passion that cannot be extinguished. The taste of water when parched, the feel of water gliding past naked skin under the night sky. Awakening warm and comfortable to the knowledge that you do not have to get out of bed. The way a cup of tea tastes when shared with a friend. Health after long illness. Her enigmatic smile. The way his eyes pierce me. The knowledge that something you have made with your own hands is good and beautiful. Even sorrow and loss should not be forgotten. And so I sit here remembering.
A cluttered mind...sometimes I wish for the ability to siphon thoughts out....to sift through them and let the chaff fall to the wind. There are so many things that should be forgotten, and so many that must be remembered: like the way he folded his hands as if in prayer his tiny and long fingers so serene, that he was mine. The glittery look of frost on fall leaves illuminated by the silvery wash of the moon. The sound of her footsteps next to me. The excitement and thrill of the first kiss, the rush of emotion and exuberance. The feel of her hand caressing my hair. The wonder that he is mine. Fiery passion that cannot be extinguished. The taste of water when parched, the feel of water gliding past naked skin under the night sky. Awakening warm and comfortable to the knowledge that you do not have to get out of bed. The way a cup of tea tastes when shared with a friend. Health after long illness. Her enigmatic smile. The way his eyes pierce me. The knowledge that something you have made with your own hands is good and beautiful. Even sorrow and loss should not be forgotten. And so I sit here remembering.