Tilt of curly head
blue eyes watching sideways
taking in every face
reading what's underneath
before it rises to the surface.
Is it gift,
fallen grace?
A disservice?
An untied or broken lace
of memory?
Noticing, seeing?
Mind-reading, make-believing?
Minutia, details
an invisible track
none can sense or see.
Call it my wealth of
experience or poor tragedy.
The messages hidden
in the tea leaves.
nearly always reveal themselves
to me
before any tea is poured
before the tea is tea.
The inner sense of it cannot be
ignored.
It is an itch
that requires soothing.
I am apart yet a part of it,
removed yet I am the earth moving.
Even
the ocean floor beneath
knows a part of me,
my azure eyes have seen
and will keep on seeing.
The inner eye is honed
the intuition brightly sheened.
Copyright August 18th 2011...All Rights Reserved By the Author
Melissa A Howells Meloo of Tilt-a-World
work in progress. sheened isn't a word, but I like the idea of it anyway.