I can hear the sound of rubbing cutting through the rainwater on the asphalt.
I don't mind though.
It's not cold, coool but not cold.
And the rain, well sometimes it can be a welcome change.
We made it up to the seventies yesterday.
It was nice.
I had the wanderlust, something I get this time of year.
It lasts a few brief weeks and the dissipates into something else.
It's been a strange week.
Not incredibly bizzare or out of the ordinary.
Just different enough for me to notice.
Dogboy (for those of you who know him) who is dating a young woman up here in Logan is coming up tonight.
We're going to geek out.
Him, me and a few other folks.
That was out of the ordinary.
Cindy's (for those that know her) to take some classes in the fall.
She stopped by the store on Tuesday.
That was out of the ordinary.
I was asked to do a children's show this week also.
It's still up in the air whether or not I'll be able to do it.
It depends on one day.
But the fact I was asked... well that was out of the ordinary.
It's spring.
Part of me gets this longing in the spring.
A longing for something...
well a longing for something I can apparently not obtain.
Something well out of my reach.
Something so beautifully complex that when folded in on itself it appears as simple as a blank sheet of paper.
This longing is always there.
It has been for...
for several years now.
But it's different in the spring.
There's a faint twinge of joy with it.
Like a beast from the depths of the ocean come to the surface.
Just a glimpse.
Then it's back to the way it was before.
The summer the longing is accompanied by one of routinue.
The winter; dispair.
In the fall I dive into the bottomless depths, longing in tow, looking for the faint sight of joy that I know in the spring.
Yet, I've come away empty.
I have seen wondorous things.
Things of the earth
things of the air.
Imps in the fire light
beautiful beyond compare.
Waterfalls with nymphs
dancing in the foam
satyrs with maidens
loving in the loam
and a glimpse of heaven
on the cliffs edge
china dolls of porcelain
sitting on the ledge.
Women with heavey bosoms
and soft milky white thighs
but I did not know beauty
until i gazed into your eyes
posted by F.G. Shaw @ 10:34 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home