This creature…
She lurks just around the corner
Her lips painted to perfection and pursed to prissiness
Her hips hosting hands, polished nails the color of Hell’s fire
Her eyes wild and dark, so full and deep, intricate curtains over the windows to her soul
Her hair cascading wild but under the chokehold of her need for control, constantly
And her entire existence… just

This creature…
She is a creature of the night, no doubt
But she is an essence of the broad sunlight
And she was designed to be the center of attention
But is simultaneously inclined to favor solitude
She craves affection, attention, validation, and such
But values her independence, her privacy so very much

This creature…
She knows no name.
She knows herself.

Listening to the rain

the truck is the only bass

beneath the color of night

the bridge rained on

at the end of the park

fish in water

looking timid

padestrians coming and going

the grape trellis is budding

in such a quiet peaceful moment

sleepy midnight

rain is falling

on hearts fearful of

time.

Less of the hustle and bustle

of the past

shuttling pedestrians

dead leaves

winter

sun with open arms

quiet street

a crowd of children from school

a game of chess by old men

sleeping barley and roots

sunlight is the key

to lighting up

this mood.