creativegal634's blog

Air whistles as it passes over,
Flesh, feather, and bone.
Wheeling, wheeling, never flapping,
A bird glides on thermals o'er head.
Head upturned, and neck protesting,
Craving to catch the low turning bird.
Colored wings that sing through air,
Craftsmanship unparalleled.
Man's sharpest kites are still unable,
To cut through air like this bird.
Perpetual dreams of soaring free,
Hope has lasted since antiquity.
Buzzard, eagle, kite, hawk.
Uncaring as to what you are,
you fly.

This flower maiden
She showers with her hair up
So the vines remain thirsty
So they don't grow
So she doesn't have to cut them
She hopes they would rather be thirsty

Her twig legs made limited noise as she pandered
Past the trees
Past the leaves
There was someone she needed to see that day
He sat at the top of one tree
Waiting for the last leaf to fall with him

The forest is always doing something
Fleeting rabbits ran home to their dens
To read the new books
Or so they told themselves
The neighbor she was visiting was Lonely
No one sought out him

I wonder when she became who she is.
She was the IT girl of a small high school. She had the perfect hair, body, grades, friends. The perfect talk and the perfect walk. The perfect boyfriend. No one could speak against her because she was perfect. Well, except her mom. She hated her mom.
Cliche.
She loved her siblings, and helped her dad. She had the perfect life. She did everything right. She graduated valedictorian. So did her boyfriend. She made up with her mom. She got married, with the perfect ceremony.
She was full of vitality and cuteness. She was interesting and interested.
When she was going to college she was popular there too. She stood out in a big school as much as she did in a small school. She had all her dreams within reach. She finished college and had a cheerful baby girl. She worked hard to pay for her husband's college. Grandma would help to babysit. Nothing could defeat her. She had gotten everything she worked for. She was perfect, she was never wrong.

I hum to myself as i set myself down on the porch
last one left
dad forgot me
its ok
i can stand to wait.

My eyes adjust to the night
its interesting how the sky gets lighter as the stars emerge
and the skyline gets darker in contrast
i wonder how long it will take my dad to get here
the coldness creeps.

I have a certain song stuck in my head
i notice with pleasure that every time i sing it
it gets a little higher
im thrilled to see how i long i can keep singing it
eventually i stop.

I stopped because i heard a sound
like a step of a creature
maybe if im silent
it will come closer
nothing sounds
so i hum again.

When i start humming again
a different tune
i hear the noise again
i continue to sing
maybe thats why it stopped last time
except all the noises happen in different places
and me sitting in a curtain of light cannot make out what the creature is.

My creature was the falling leaves
I drowned in the echoing loneliness that followed.