Somewhere in the middle

Moody chatter from a wild lightning storm by the sea on September 16. Weather worn and sea sick on land.

I miss the places I’ve never been

and the strangers I’ve always loved

but never told.

I write letters that I don’t send.

Sink them in ocean,

sleep with the windows open

and dry out summer flowers.

I am moving beyond the bounds

with tangled heart strings.

Because to trust, is to remember.

xx V.