She walks in blue. Barefoot and true. Her clothes nothing more than fibres laid between herself and her sky. Toes that could turn the tide if they chose to.
All the seagulls move aside - only to watch her. To watch her continue on her way. White and grey. Skin tanned to breakwater brown. Soundlessly, endlessly on.
Around the edges of this island. Never questioning why. Her commitment keeps us safe. It breaks a space for us to sit high and dry - observing her progress.
She walks because she knows. Knowing enough to know. That sometimes the tide is high, sometimes low.
[I see her but she is not mine to watch. My walker walks at night - when my eyes are closed and I cant see her. My walker walks on rainy days - when I am buried indoors under papers and dirty looks.]
4 comments:
She sounds like something I want to aspire to. Barefoot and true...
Excellent entry line there. To begin with someone's isolated preference is always good, & the metaphor use works very well.
He weeps in jade
He burns in red
She comes in colours, colours everywhere, she combes her hair, she's like a rainbow..
what a wonderful image appeared in my mind when i read this piece
very vivid and evocative love both words and photo
Post a Comment