For she who comes from the sea

It is a cliche, and I wish I knew how to say it better but I don’t.

I love how you write.

Words on a page become pictures. The word ‘bird’ turns into a feathered creature swooping down into the word ‘river’, which now flows intrepidly, confidently into some unseen turn into the trees. I could see the hummingbird and then the wasp. And before I had the chance to marvel at how serendipitous this meeting was, I saw your children-whom I imagine are beautiful, of course-children usually are, no?

This is what I mean. When I write, I describe. When you write, things transform. And so I want to know what it is to write with you. I think it will be like dancing, but with words. Letters; consonants and vowels prancing across the floor of a white sheet. Punctuations cutting in, asking for the last dance.

You’ll see. We will dance, you and I.


One thought on “For she who comes from the sea

  1. Writing let’s us look into someone. Its the soul right out there, pure and uncovered for the world to see. Amazingly written, for I know that feeling. I am in love with the way he writes.


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