Writers Are Parents
Branches buried in gloom, peering at a pearl in the muck.
Running, running, with shadows behind me and glass bobbles ahead.
I am the wind making ripples across the water.
Those endless bones, frozen mid-swim.
Hidden waves in the desert sand, rippling like rainbows.
That speck of a rainbow, when rain responds to sunshine.
Fingers tap the window, made of ghosts and mist. It wants me.
Dawn brings more than the first rays of a new day.
She slides into the silk, the maid's fingers on the buttons. Hundreds of buttons . . .
The world is inverted, staring up at you, refreshed.
The world is singing.
I wipe mist from a mirror.
Who are those who invite travel; who see the world differently?
One person knocked into me.
When life gives you lemons . . .
Nin Chronicles is bridging the gaps between religion, race, gender, parents and their children with words of hope and love.
Join the journey to grow.
© 2019 Jaya Avendel
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