she'd play in the fields, come in with dusk
walk barefoot through her cloud
throw paint at the sky
that even though
she was attached to his stable ways
his work in the sewers kept him dark (Tweet This)
the waste of other people's lives
dragged the filth around him
as much as he tried.
she could hose him off
and giggle as he shook the droplets
which she could catch on her fingers
and eat instead of a meal
she was never hungry for real food
because the sun and the moon
the breeze and the shadows
kept her full of the world.
but she would stay by his side
knowing that when it ended
when it was black everywhere
she would hum, sing, flap her fragrant wings
and watch her life below.
and she did.
(he climbed to the top of the hill
where she had said she could be the entire world (Tweet This)
he'd shirk off the stink of his daily clothes
the stench of his life
and climb the tree
so he could be close to her.)
Love is not the same for each of us. (Tweet This)
Stay well, stay kind.