Let her sleep

Water slips through the slits of her fingers as she keeps

her gaze to the vastness of sky; she wonders how 

she dreams and in what color --- cerulean, sienna,

or that plain block of brown --- do they come in, her dreams.

Or maybe she slumbers in silence, void of images, a blank slate

which clamors to be filled, splattered with paint: a splash of red

for passion, a smear of carnation, signaling a silent, burning love

she longs to send her. So she whispers to the night, willing the wind

to carry her words to where she sleeps, dreaming in snippets --- a fingertip tracing

the outline of a scar from when she once tried and failed, a hesitant echo,

silence golden and yet wishing to be taken back with the words 

I love you, darling. And somehow, that is all that matters; her resting,

caught in slumber for when she awakens so it begins. Again.

Keep calm and fill in the blanks

Interesting endeavor this is. Starting a blog with someone you love is quite a first for us both. Two things: A smashin' success. Meaning we will have loads of fun sharing our insights and musings on and to the world. Or an epic disaster (read: ---------------------------).

Banking on the former. Teehee!

What to expect? Poetry and pseudo-literary shiz from me. Because, yes, I am embracing being writerly. Sense and sensibilities from her. Wired that way --- the anchor. And she will anchor this blog while I carry on with my flights of fancy. Yep.

Only a test post --- the writer in me is getting antsy looking at a dead page, like a painter staring at a blank canvass, brush poised and dripping with paint, ready to pounce. More to come.

In the meantime, keep calm ---

Au revoir for now!

Stilettista