519. 17/5/16 (#511)
I sit at my laptop,
A strange sense of purpose,
As my fingers hit the keys,
And for once I feel as if I could write of simple things,
The music in my ears,
Sending me into dance,
Singing along to words I hardly known,
Written for someone else but still mine in this moment,
And without fear I let the sound rock my whole body,
Filling my lungs so deep they burst.
The flowers in the field,
Some child in the sky flicking a paint brush of bright yellow,
Sending shining drops across the green.
How the wind ripples through them,
A wave of some forgotten tide that loved the land too much.
The stories in my head,
Faces I don't recognise but will love before long,
Places I've never seen but feel like home,
Air I can't breathe that keeps me alive,
Universes flowing like rivers from my mind.