train of thought 09.04 [5 minutes]

words strung together like bunting flags at summer teaparties, slotting together as puzzle pieces in the palm of my hand. grasping. sensing. feeling. they flow like rivers, intricately weaving through my mind and rolling off my tongue. velvetty soft blankets of grammar and sharp sticato of syllables. mumbling. rambling. punctuating.
eyes of rich delicious treacle flecked with shards of pale caramel. warm. inviting. ever expectant like children on christmas eve, sneaking fresh gingerbread hot from the oven. sticky fingers. presents under the tree.
we will weep tears of dust into the powdered world that lay beyond the horizon. shimmering twinkling stars that cannot sing. nestled in the quiet vast entity of space. picking the lint of time from her pockets while she sat below a large oak tree thumbing through a book, from her childhood. the musty smell of age seeping into the air. cracked spine.fluttering eyelashes, pages of a dream. of a lifetime. of a photograph. remember. don't forget him. the day with the cherry blossom, the wind in your hair, the camera in your palms, the laughing the dreaming. never forget.