Definitely a meme

I’ve seen this on seven different blogs at least, and I’ve been dodging it so far. So, here goes.

And this is totally a meme.

The sun and the moon in the hallway

The sun and moon are fighting for the hallway.

The golden moon lit up the sky from the east tonight like a night-light in the hallway of the earth. As it rose it lost its jaundice and there were still flashes of lightning coming from the west.

I feel like I’m the child still creeping about the hallway chasing the shadows as if they were friends. I feel like I open my mouth and let it run itself right into a book by Yeats and yet that doesn’t seem to matter when I can’t get past this hunger to create.

I’m not Yeats. But that’s where the door at the end of the hallway leads; right into a poetry book! At least that’s what the shadows told me.

I feel like I can’t hide my heart through my face. I need some overdone blush and eyeshadow that could make a clown run and a Shakespeare monologue and then maybe I wouldn’t feel my eyes roll in my own head.

I remember waiting for the sun to make its exit. I remember feeling the drops of sweat rise through my skin onto my face as the light painted itself onto my cells. I remember thinking that if I could just wait until the sun dipped below the edge of the hill that everything would be just fine.

The sun has gone away and now I’m tip-toeing and creaking through the hallway listening to the shadows whisper and beg me to walk through the door at the end of the hall.

My mind is an engine and if I cannot spill these exhausting words onto paper or into song or onto the side of a downtown bridge the car will run out of gasoline and we’ll be left right where we started. I’m asleep in the seat next to you and even though it’s freezing outside the heat is doing its job to keep us warm. My high heels are crunched in the corner of the floorboard and my skirt is cover my knees like blanket. It’s sometime in February and we’re coming home from some kind of museum. The salt has made the roads a washed white and the pale yellow sun is screaming at us from the horizon at the end of the road and just slightly to the right. The piano music is keeping my eyes closed as you drive and I’m still standing at the end of the hallway in my dreams.

The sun and moon are fighting for the hallway.

Falling

Fall is coming. It was in the breeze this morning.

There is something about this coming season that begs me to be quiet, begs me to listen. The dreamer inside me awakes once the leaves start to turn.

Autumn is enchanted and the magic runs through our fingertips out onto our warm cups of cider and onto the sleeves of our sweatshirts.

This time of year the libraries in our minds open up and I spend most of my time reading books I forgot I had. The angry books lay themselves out on the tables for me to see and yet I remain in retreat behind the shelves seeking out the small and nimble memories I’ve almost forgotten.

From our first conversation I knew that you would always capture my attention and this has not failed.

“The dreamers are not the ones who sleep.”