each letter a droplet on the page
the white surface silky, unmoving
not a duality,
but a harmony
the curved black lines
graceful
tracing my thoughts
flowing from my mind
and through the reflective metallic shimmer
at the tip,
the point of contact
between imagination
and reality
...
where pen touches paper, the smooth flow of words brings the inside to the outside, linking the mind to its surroundings, a seemingly separation, yet interconnected in unknown ways. The ink flows like liquid fire, passionate, or like the ripples of water in a pond. The emotion is in the writing itself.
About the Creator
Big Dreams
Writer and artist who loves dogs, beaches, coffee and solitude
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She loves me
She loved me. When I was small and my wee stayed to the paper. When I was rumpled skin and floppy big paws and big eyes looking up and waiting for her hands to find me, scooping me up and bringing me into her. And we were happy, so happy, so very, very happy. I was so happy to see her and danced my circles so she'd know how much I wanted nothing more than for her to hold me. I'd wrap, wiggle, wiggle and wrap my growing body with my bestest happy dance, slumping and kerplumping into her warm parts just like she liked me to. She was there and I was there, and we were there together, and it was perfect. Oh, how she loved me! We spent all our time together, playing inside, outside, up, down, going round and round. And she petted me and called me good girl when I made poops, and sometimes when I weed in her front yard or the neighbor's, and I was the best girl. For her, I really was! And she scratched me behind my ears, and it was heaven. I aowooo my joy! And she aowoooed hers too.
By Christy Munson6 days ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
the point of contact between imagination and reality I especially loved these lines! This was such a wonderful poem!