Drabble #50 – Hot, Top, Flight (Boy
I’m out of sight)
My toes are curling against the worn, chapped leather of your
soles and I’m wondering what roads you have traveled for
them to be so weathered. I’m sure if I walked across the
moon, I would feel you in the dust beneath me, breathe you in
with the stars like little candied bursts painting the universe
on my lungs. Well, I too have been plucked like the strings of
a fiddle. I have been strum to the beat of someone else’s
heart all along. And we're walking down this path and the
treetops are howling and I’m thinking… maybe
that’s not so bad.
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