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his eyes change
from green to brown like mine from blue to green subtle differences but we are both hazel ©Erin Croley (from a #WordVerse Twitter prompt)
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I'd like to think I'm not alone (in a misery-loves-company way),but also hope I am alone (in a I-don't-wish-this-on-others way). Last night, again (I wouldn't say it happens often, but definitely too often), I had dreams (or nightmares) in which I was helpless as a mother. My dreams are typically very vivid, but last night was just too bloody real (bloody and real). My little boy was suffering and the doctor (it was his real pediatrician in my dream) gave me that sad, there-is-nothing-we-can-do look as we hunched down on the ground over his tiny little body. I woke instantly to go check him, only to discover he was in my bed...my husband just lifting his peacefully sleeping body out from under the covers to carry back to his own bed.
I almost asked him to leave him with me, but instead fought for a little more sleep, which didn't come. The rest of the day I felt like I had a hangover, and eventually wrote this... with no liquor to blame I'll attribute this hangover to the corrupting influence of restless dreams ©Erin Croley (from a #MadVerse Twitter prompt) today will be born on the flatbed of a trailer,
hauled across highways and gravel, but right now there is coffee and bird song, and I am writing ©Erin Croley we may wear more layers
in winter and rain, but our natures are more transparent when tempted inside and I am grateful to see you ©Erin Croley (from a #HeartSoup Twitter prompt) night sky
reverberates in our chest -a bass drum- as if the stars were a reflection of our flesh and all our dreams yet undiscovered ©Erin Croley (from a #fieryverse Twitter prompt) this night
when brilliance slides in and out with the making and remaking of bedsheets I fail again and again to recapture myself ©Erin Croley identical chairs
angled together contemplate the awakening day sunday morning ritual coffee bird song and us (un)naturally silent ©Erin Croley (from an #elixirpoetry Twitter prompt) trying to fit a poem
around "we belong" but instead play repeated homage to Pat Benatar ©Erin Croley (from a #fieryverse Twitter prompt) I'd rather look at you
and you at me this expanse of mirror is just empty space ©Erin Croley (from a #capturedpoets Twitter prompt) seven days
syncing 149 files... 99... 21... 4... somewhere between 1-3 hours, still... waiting only 3 files left today... 48 minutes or another 24 hours... until my laptop sprouts wings winter window left open... brought in frost and calm... for morning 48 hour hiatus... from technology... is almost over... and so I begin to stare at my laptop... sleeping... and daydream about baking cusp of dawn tiptoeing... past sleeping bedrooms... coffee and headphones in hand... the imprint of my day to come fluctuating between the pull of productivity and the balance of me... mom, runner, writer, friend, reader, beach-lounging daydreamer, human... looks like pizza for dinner wishing I could sprout hours and arms like a Hindu Goddess... the unknown price of divinity is no match for my vision of perfection ©Erin Croley |
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