What follows is the result of a sleepless night spent with a restless brain.
I can’t promise it will be good.
I am a paradox and a little bit strange.
I hope for sunshine but relish the rain.
I catch my breath and let it go.
I’m loud when I should whisper low.
I am awkward I am shy.
I long to dress like Grace Kelly.
And pray for happy endings.
I love sad songs, and ballerina flats.
I toast to fallen stars and broken glass.
I sometimes feel like a balloon floating on the horizon,
Both free and doomed to get tangled up in a turbo prop engine.
I believe in Angels. I think I spied one once.
I don’t think all accidents happen by chance.
I’m present in the moment but get lost quite often.
Twisting and churning like a falling leaf in the middle of autumn.
In my youth I tried to fit in. I’m sure I did, with a few select friends.
Sometimes I felt, like someone on the outside looking in.
I can’t say, I don’t feel that way still upon occasion.
I like long exploring walks where I can laugh out loud
and marvel at all I behold.
While shedding a tear for the decay that will eventually unfold.
Yes. That is definitely not good. It is quite bad.
Oh well. It was a good writing exercise to say the least.