Everyone joins the merry go round at some point.
Feeling safe and secure, as the next turn whips
around the carousel cutting against chilled breezes.
The years spin astray, night and day telling their own story.
Seems like a good deal, but it doesn’t come with its own bread and butter.
At best, we try to connect with one another; building sentence upon sentence, spelling out our own history.
Written for the Sunday Whirl: Wordle 231
Her countenance was sweet
and her lure was pure magic.
Unflickering eyes of pearl held steady,
streaming love in steady gaze,
spread wild like rolling spring blossom.
Its leaves giddily unfurled, elegantly creased
thoroughly unbound and happily released.
Then fear viciously flooded
chambers in the heart,
draining down to the veins.
The lines were drawn, but the facts still remained.
All vicious schemes were irrelevant
for the attraction was extreme.
All barriers disintegrated
in the reality of their dream.
Written for the Sunday Whirl