This is the time of day, I love the most.
The in-between time of what is mine –
and what is, still waiting to be done.
There arises a glint in the sky – wicked
little minx, sent to catch my eye.
I am lulled by her serenity.
She speaks to me in words of self belief.
Sending sinuous gifts from her scented tongue.
Though never, to be voiced out strident
merely whispers on the run.
She beguiles me, cajoles me, to shape
A time for change is calling at my door.
There was nothing ever expected of my life
me – the immaterial wife.
Yet I am neither happy – nor unhappy
So I ask –
does the chrysalis desire to come forward
or maybe she is contented staying
hidden, in her secluded modest casing.
Six sense, hind sight are of little use, for
someone who has long since bolted her
barricades; into place.
Make no mistake –
I shall always write in praise of my
Being direction less; is never to be lost.
Do I aspire to partake in this unbroken,
new me – what can I answer – accept
‘wait to see’
Oh yes – I do so love this time of day
it gives me space to let my
dreams, run wickedly free…