not-quite Journaling, 15
Her heart can’t quit thinking,
celebration of two halves
becoming one whole.
his heartbeats don’t serenade her sleep,
something rips the night apart—
sound of laughter
sprouts like specters in the heart,
when her love’s away.
thunder is the only music,
she remembers that
her passion flowers
greet clouds and sunlight
her love remembers the moon.
and the inspiration:
suspect that most chronic illness warriors (and anyone who bares their teeth
at adversity over and over and over) can feel this quote all the way to
their bones (I sure do).
6/22/2021: All right, so “storm” might be a tad much. It was more like a rather enthusiastic cloudburst. Still, my passion flower is blooming beautifully, inviting bees and butterflies for a yummy snack. And since my Piano Man is away, visiting his parents, I appreciate the company and the scented cheer extra much.
- for Poets and Storytellers United--Writers’ Pantry #77: On Independence Day.