She Lost the Thread…

 

She wiggles her toes inside her shoes, looking around while
walking down side streets silent late pools of light washing over
hesitant steps toward where she thinks her future lay, where
she hopes but doesn’t know…dreams with eyes wide and unblinking
her toes a little uncomfortable she thinks about where her feet
are stepping where her dreams are sliding where she is now.

Walking lends an air of thought as she wanders toward a keyhole, where
with a twist she can hide can wait can watch can sit quietly and
feel the thread of her life reel out and wind around time, around
her thoughts, around her future which may be a husband which may
be children which may be a baloney sandwich on rye with mustard or
may not but it might be what she expects or nothing like it.

At 2:30 AM walking city curbs stumble not drinking just lost in
the thread that winds itself through around over and inside an
imagined life…a shadow falling somewhere close to now, somewhere
close to never, somewhere to be ultimately found within her heart her
head her hand waits open for another; another set of fingers, some large
some small…maybe several sets…or maybe empty waving goodbye.

She walks on and is sad thinking she lost the thread, lost the path toward
someplace she hadn’t quite found yet walking walking always
walking but she knows the thread is there; it is time life breathing living from
yesterday through today and ending never ending in tomorrow where
she imagines her path wanders dragging her along in its wake, in its
ideas thoughts decisions all the way to her breathing thinking waiting…now.

Today she is feeling her toes in slightly tight shoes skipping over cobblestones
in lagoons of city light while darkness laps gently against her thinking that
tomorrow may be where the thread rises above the surface, above the noise of
living in a time where happiness is placed along the same level; the cost
of fuel the cost of food the cost of the decisions she makes everyday, that
she watches unwind along with the thread of living.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s