…and she sounds like an irish lullaby wrapping my lazy saturday anticipation in secure strums. as i hum along my pen fingers take to their interpretive dance, a literary tribute to another stranger’s moment perfectly tuned to my heart’s vibration.
…and cheyenne’s ghost is already here. listening in the shadows and finding inspiration in my awkward eyes. it’s all too goddamn blissful. reason slips through me like the bubbling prayers of this background fountain.
…and all i am left with is a feeling of green island hills and sun-kissed arms; of peace shaken nervous and of deep friendship made deeper by my giving up to this stranger’s perfect moment. yes.
today is the lullaby to the once overwhelming restlessness i wrestled with.
now, a song and the sun, a friend and fellowship; they have opened me up like a perennial only the few stop to admire.