Throwback Thursday

The last few days have seen me

Rummaging through old photos

Sifting through memories

Reminiscing.

As I sifted through photo after photo

I came across this one.

Twenty one years ago.

There is nothing that shines brighter

Than possibility

And at that tender age everything was ahead of me.

All roads golden with promise.

I still have years ahead of me

And many adventures to experience.

 I enter into them wiser for those accumulated years

Albeit at times still innocent.

So on this Thursday here is a throwback photo…

Photo personally owned by sirensong1208

Land-Locked Mermaid

I love the water

I make no secret of it.

My natural affinity for the sea

Keeps me writing about it

And wanting to always be near it

To absorb it, make it part of me.

But I love other kinds of water too.

When I was a child if you wanted to find me

You’d look in the pool.

I would spend days on end there

From morning until dusk.

Diving and flipping and swimming and playing.

A land-locked mermaid.

I would pretend that I was an Olympic gymnast

Doing back handsprings in the water.

An imaginary balance beam my stage

My toes pointed just so

Maintaining form

My arms extended gracefully.

Or I’d pretend that I was a ballet dancer

Choreographing elaborate water ballets

Where I was the prima ballerina.

I was often by myself

Enjoying my game of pretend.

But I liked it that way

The silence allowing my thoughts to run free

Allowing me to dream big.

Those were the long days of summer

Of my childhood

When everything was possible

Photo taken from Pinterest

 

Floating on a Sea of Green

She’s floating on a sea of green.

The grass in the garden

A rich, vibrant chartreuse

Is glowing with spring sunshine.

The blanket of blue wool with red and white plaid is small

A precious remnant of her childhood

Where she used it exactly as she did today

Picking out a patch of lawn

Pitching her tent, so to speak

And lying on her back to read.

Sunshine and clouds above

Moving quickly across the sky.

A garden alive with the sounds of

Joyous birdsong, the whirring of bumblebees

Seeking nectar from newly opened blossoms

And the gentle breeze that gathers its fingers

Through the towering lilac bush

Its buds just starting to bloom.

It’s peaceful here

And reminds her of all the days she would spend

Just like this 

When she was a girl.

Her, the blanket and a couple of mysteries

Piled next to her.

Words to lose herself in.

It was easy back then.

To forget

Responsibility

Worries

Life

And immerse herself in her books.

Far easier than now…

Photos taken by sirensong1208

This Wistfulness

How do I cure this wistfulness I have.

This desire to be by the sea.

Whenever I see a picture

Or read about it

There rages within myself

A deep need

To be there

Right then.

As though being there

Will make everything all right in my little world.

Perhaps because I believe that it does

In some tiny way.

It settles me

It buoys my spirits

But most of all

It reminds me of how small I really am

And that while my needs, wants, and desires

Are important

In the scheme of things

I am one miniscule drop of water

In an endless sea.

So I take what comfort I can get

My small pleasure in nature.

I smell the salt air

Letting it fill my nostrils with the briny texture

Of the deep.

I let the wind whip through my hair

Making me look wild and untamed.

I hear the pounding of the surf

Reminding me that it is violent in its pursuit of land

But as it recedes

Its touch is gentle as a lover’s caress.

I let my senses take in all the gifts of the sea

And it makes it all right again.

My mind focuses.

My soul breathes.

And I let go…

 

Painting “The Allure” by Michael & Inessa Garmash

Blue Dancers

They dance

And sway

And twist

And turn

Proud irises in a field of green

Their movements synchronized

Perfectly in time 

With one another

A dip

A bend

An arm extended

The perfect symmetry

Of this blue assemblage

Dancing in the wind

Grace personified

Art by Edgar Degas

‘Blue Dancers’ pastel

How The Night Moves

She loves how the night moves

How it curls itself

Around her

Softly caressing

The inky, velvety black darkness

So still

So quiet

Whisper soft

Allowing her thoughts

To rove and ramble

To be free

To breathe

Photo taken from Pinterest

Your Sublime Arousal

She is your sublime arousal

Your instructions

Her wish

Her desire

Her need

Her want

Setting her aflame

With a look

With a word

With tone

With intent

You are the key

That unlocks

The wild within her

The wild

She was not aware of

The wild

She has saved

Just for you

Photo taken from Tumblr.com