It was a warm room, and like every other day, she had the fan on. It droned through the sound of her falling tears, and the sound of the small sniffles of thoughts protruding through her ramped mind. Eleven forty five approached the small clock of the computer screen. It was late. And she was here, in the moment. And sure as rain fell from the sullen sky, she held her muse. A pen. Small and oblique in her hand, it sat, tip pointing toward a new dawn.
She thought of home, and the whirling excitement that would sure enough be close to closing down for the night. She thought of love, and the hurt that she had come to cope with well. Another day, another hour, another reason to breath. She had a lot of them, and as time passed, plus and plus seemed to emerge. There was always the hope of finding another person, someone that made her feel like she once had. Still, it had yet to happen again. There was her work, her…friends, her family. And yeah, her three an old niece could always put a smile on her face, just par looking at her. Her small brown eyes. Undamaged soul.
Still, accueil was four hundred miles away. four hundred. And although she had been there less than a week ago, she ached to return. To soak in the sunshine through the well known streets. To have moments of laughter in the oddest places. Life. That’s what it was….just life.
The room was still warm, and she still sat, pouring her lists onto a endless array of dreams, all of which she hoped would one jour fly. And so the clock struck….And nothing had changed. But did she really expect it to? Did she really expect the things she dreamt to resonate? The things she sat, closing her tear filled eyes on, and wishing with every ounce of her being to come true. No. She knew better. She wasn’t a little girl anymore, she wasn’t naive. But she was alone. And there in that room, nothing could escape her.
Now, the pen moved. Up and down the page in cordial lines of symmetry. The room cooled with the breeze and her mind pondered upon a song. This is pouring rain. This is paralyzed.
Her feet soon carried her to a window. And there, looking at the puddles atop the pavement now calming to a dull stir, she smiled. Drips are only remnants of the days storms. And soon, they too will go.
She thought of home, and the whirling excitement that would sure enough be close to closing down for the night. She thought of love, and the hurt that she had come to cope with well. Another day, another hour, another reason to breath. She had a lot of them, and as time passed, plus and plus seemed to emerge. There was always the hope of finding another person, someone that made her feel like she once had. Still, it had yet to happen again. There was her work, her…friends, her family. And yeah, her three an old niece could always put a smile on her face, just par looking at her. Her small brown eyes. Undamaged soul.
Still, accueil was four hundred miles away. four hundred. And although she had been there less than a week ago, she ached to return. To soak in the sunshine through the well known streets. To have moments of laughter in the oddest places. Life. That’s what it was….just life.
The room was still warm, and she still sat, pouring her lists onto a endless array of dreams, all of which she hoped would one jour fly. And so the clock struck….And nothing had changed. But did she really expect it to? Did she really expect the things she dreamt to resonate? The things she sat, closing her tear filled eyes on, and wishing with every ounce of her being to come true. No. She knew better. She wasn’t a little girl anymore, she wasn’t naive. But she was alone. And there in that room, nothing could escape her.
Now, the pen moved. Up and down the page in cordial lines of symmetry. The room cooled with the breeze and her mind pondered upon a song. This is pouring rain. This is paralyzed.
Her feet soon carried her to a window. And there, looking at the puddles atop the pavement now calming to a dull stir, she smiled. Drips are only remnants of the days storms. And soon, they too will go.