It has been a while since I last scribbled words that are crafted; usually it’s the brain doing all the monotonous action of joining strange shapes called letters. I wonder if it was the walk in rain or the thought of her that ignited the craft.
Thought of her:
Can she be a dream while her thoughts don’t let me sleep?
Can her essence be as real as a memory but there’s no memory at all?
Can she be so surreal that I’m articulating her description ignoring the fact that I have never seen her before?
As Jamie once said, “I’m sticking with the shoelaces. The hearts say I like you, but the shoelace part isn’t too mushy”
It’s Shoelace time.