The traffic and noise of jostling musters is amplified as a window is swung open.
I pick up a thought from the dancing breeze;
It feels more than right to say that the thought picked me.
A song, a rhyme, a tune forlorn;
A chant, a chime or a legend long gone.
Of lush green happiness and undiluted joy,
Of love so strong that even time cannot destroy.
A tempting invitation from a place little known
To the rational minds that work for theories carved in stone.
The sun sets and with it the birds fly home to each other
The traffic and the noise of jostling musters resumes after the brief dream-like interlude.
The window swings shut with a screech;
In its echo the heart follows suit.
A frown re-settles onto its former glory.
Morning will bring some more enchanting adventures of the concrete jungle,
of the rat-race and th never ending struggle.
Bravado intact, mentally prepared,
Ready to fight and face the unfair.
The thought that I picked, the one that picked me;
Leaves me wondering if the traffic and the noise of the jostling musters is the only thing to look forward to,
Or if that breeze will return for me.
~Kiera~
