Drop It

Wren is feeling a lot better. I can tell because she's once again tormenting Bailey. Wren loves to run and sit in front of the dog door whenever Bailey goes outside. When Bailey decides to come back in, she can't because Wren is sitting there, probably laughing inside. Bailey will paw and whine to get back in, but nothing will detract Wren from her cause.

Shades of grey cover with whispered wantings,

becomes cool breezes that stirs every winter leaf of

almost barren trees sideways, ever so brief.

A flicker of color against cheeks brushed by lashes

and kissed with freckles of mumbled promises.

Moments stolen but ours to take them

Seasons past of futures glimpsed hanging on hope.

Perchance you hold empty offerings but upon inspection

of closer sighs you hold a vessel of sentiments which

beats with rhythmic precision that is immeasurable in worth.

Parry and thrust in a dance of breaths and winds that move

time beyond possibilities like clouds atop dreams.