Cynthia

She thinks in harmonies and symbols.

Words come to her like butterflies,

With fantasies on their wings.

She nibbles on the edges of ideas,

Trying them out before devouring them.

Her world is alight with floating color,

And music touches her fingertips.

She stays in this state for moments,

Forgetting days, weeks, months.

Her food bursts with momentum,

And she drinks from a patched cup.

She is beholden and she is beheld.

She targets the lines and converses in verses.

Not forgotten, she is everywhere.

Left alone, she flashes like lightning.

She is in another’s soul.

 

© 2017 Valerie Hathaway

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