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Aimless

There's no connection
like the present
when you have one
when you are tethered
with an umbilical chord to
life.
Yet
I'm floating
aimless
the stuff of summers past wash
the skies of memory pale blue.
All that is absent
is a memory of myself.
Nothing for comparison,
or contrast.
Though I'd wish for a full moon memory
shining in the gloom...
I'm here, hollowed out,
making lists in alphabetical order in my head.
Incantations,
a Mesmer training herself to sleep...
but, aimless.
I'd curl up into a summer's breeze,
feel its gentleness as the zephyr sweetly breathes
and blows away all
that's aimless.
How can a grown child not know
who or what
she's supposed to be?
Instead of being
aimless, aimless, aimless.



Copyright July 28, 2011 All Rights Reserved by Author
Melissa A Howells Meloo of Tilt-a-World

I made this. I like this. Thank you Chris Carter for "I made this."





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Aimless


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