Always, never, almost waiting? A prowl through the lavender, or perhaps, another stage of life, previous. How to turn back time when we cannot? I left New York. I wonder, did I leave you too? No baggage claim fixes what we wait for, yesterday, today, tomorrow, this evening. my cat Seems to be ever mute as ever. Yet my other one left as soon as it got dark, darkened the world darkened. I don’t know what I am waiting for anymore. Except I am in a queue like everyone else Waiting, waiting, waiting, not for another bombshell, like the one I gave you that last time. Waiting, not for my heart, unbroken before they crushed me and my pen and my voice and my innocence. Waiting, waiting, waiting, for redemption. No pity, please for my crippled body. I am not a broken person. Just a broken soul, not broken, almost healing, waiting for window of sunshine, which will raise one up to a better level. A pot of lavender awaits me. Just like you. and my mute cat.
It seems like the blog is becoming inundated with poetry. Mille excuses for this. Although, the sun’s finally out to stay, the heat is finally coming, and I am slowly working on a few things to get life back on the tracks. A few analysis ideas are flying around. Just have to sit down and clear room on the desk to write them down in depth.