There lives an artist, I think, that if we ever should meet, I would assume she walks down extraordinary streets, painted with vivid brush strokes and cobbled stones, traversed day and night by hard-bottom feet. The exterior expression of a beautiful soul, found in emotionally weighty subjects fantastically told. Her body wrapped exquisitely in poetry and prose. Each walk. Each step. Each eye-smile a pose.
“Hello, nice to meet you.”
There lives an artist, I think, that if we ever should meet, I would watch her waltz down winding streets, while strolling beside many intertwining feet, sitting under umbrellas held by laced gloves, covering park benches draped with couples in love. The words dance to whimsical notions and witty expressions, accompanied by profound insights and alliterations. Her thoughts all penned by keystrokes and backspaces, all interwoven with rich characters and as such life lessons, that dance themselves about the hem of her dresses, secured in place by pins to spare from coiffed hair tresses.
“And may I add that it is my honor to make your acquaintance.”
While it doesn’t take much to hear the melody of a violin, sometimes it takes a guide to point out the color of the flute floating in.
“thoughts…that dance themselves about the hem of her dresses”–just lovely, all of it!
Thank you very much!
This is just lovely, Malakhai! Catching up with your blog after a bit of a hiatus 🙂
Thanks Christine! Glad to see you are back. I’ve been in and out myself. Just working on things. 😃👍🏾👊🏾
A beautiful prose poem, Malakhai. Makes me think of the days in faraway cities being excited to wander the streets at the prospect of meeting an angel, alien, or just an awakened being.
Thanks Amaya! As long as you took that walk down those streets in your mind, I am happy and I achieved my goal – sharing the emotion, not dictating the scene or formula..
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