Leaning atop the graceful balustrade

One cube of sugar and a mug full of likelihood as the sun upon
the horizon sets; why is it that we taste every detail of ongoing
life twice? Everything has meaning, even silence that glows in
the pupils of those who have understood;  I am slightly hesitant
owing to the direction of the wind, its sting outweighs buoyancy
dark amber; rejection is all but unimaginable, we seldom think
of it.

Being humble is just that, being humble.  It’s neither a weapon
nor a strategy nor a mask, only a virtue.  I reminisce about the
days when I was younger and everything seemed hypnagogic,
rosy. Could it be that we never truly change but merely learn to
outmanoeuvre it all? The sparkle in my matured hazel flows in
return.

And though, sometimes the great bones of my life feel so heavy;
I keep going.

 

 

 

Photo credits: Pinterest

Linda hosts at dVerse and asks to write inspired by a line from “Spring azures,” from the book ‘Wild Geese,’ by Mary Oliver. 💝

Posted for Prosery Monday: Bone Weary @ dVerse Poets Pub