When I think of you, I find myself looking towards the sky. I wonder if you are looking down at me. Watching from above, with a pair of angelic wings. I believe that you are seeing heights only one stairway has ever led to.
I would prefer it if you were closer though. Thriving in flourishing meadows, behind the hills. I dream of watching you dance, as the playful breeze rattles the leaves of the oak trees. Just beyond the view from my window; your own hinterland.
Image credit: pixabay.com
In response to Sammi Cox’s Weekend Writing Prompt found here
We are parched of hope.
Two tulips in spring.
Lost in a field of poppies,
So wild, and unforgiving.
I falter, I wither,
In emotional turmoil.
I pine for your company,
Though anchored to the soil.
Where’s my refuge, my nursery?
I’m a solitary flower,
Come and quench my thirst,
With all the love I can devour.
I seek hope by the water,
Clear as a looking glass,
It reflects the damage of our parting.
When will this menace pass?
Oh, won’t you come and find me?
My strength, you can restore.
Let your touch console me.
You are still worth waiting for.
In response to the Paint Chip Poetry Prompt #21 found here
Open your arms wide,
Lock me in tight. So close, I
Can hear your heart beat.
In response to Ronovan Writes Weekly Haiku Poetry Prompt Challenge #307 found here
You took a second glance. I could
Forgive you for a wand’ring eye.
As long as you do not deny,
And just assume I’ve understood,
Given a choice, I know you would
Allow that longing, leering stare
To ricochet back to me where
It will be reciprocated.
Besides, I’ve often debated
To gaze, myself. It’s only fair.
In response to Ronovan Writes Décima Poetry Challenge Prompt No. 6 found here
Remember when we sat beneath the stars?
Gazing as the waves approached the shore,
I nestled in your arms. The night was ours.
Felt safer than I ever had before.
You turned to me and said you liked the way
It felt to have me in your grasp again.
You held me tighter still, and said someday,
To see you, I won’t have to catch a train.
Though distance holds no power over us,
Why does it hurt so much to be apart?
Then time refused to pause, or to discuss,
The desperate prayers within my aching heart.
My mind began to wander to a place,
Where every day I’m blessed to see your face.
I wrote a Clerihew for my love.
For I’m convinced he fell from above.
He landed at my doorstep, on all fours.
I blushed and whispered: “call me yours”.
I’m not in love with you.
Paths may cross,
They may run parallel,
But eventually they part.
I’m not in love with you.
Although we collided,
We will be divided.
Its just that we are both heading South.
If we join forces, maybe we can find North.
Okay, so I’m in love with you.
I will crumble. Won’t quite catch
My breath. Console me.
Every morning, Eleanor would ride the bus to the beach. Something about the narrow aisle, uncomfortable chairs, and window seat would act as a social catalyst.
She would always use the journey as an opportunity to make connections with the other passengers. She would delve into their past, ask them questions about who they are, and where their ambitions would take them. She would always remember to ask for their birthday.
When she arrived at the beach, she would scribble everything down, under the headings of star signs. She would try to find matches, and make links… Where there weren’t any.
It took years to gather enough information to realise that everyone is unique, and all those years of chasing after her own horoscope had only led to loneliness.
Eleanor did not dwell on this for too long. Instead, she developed a whole new system to match people, and by the end of the week, she had set up her own dating site. She could make some strong conclusions about lifestyle choices, complimenting personality traits, and love.
Her most successful match was her own. Eleanor managed to find her own love story within the pages of her website. As soon as he appeared on the list, she knew their paths would cross and connect.
When things are not going to plan, be flexible. Adapt.