In my amethyst morning moodiness you were fleeting
moment there before my broomstick was awake to take
me a mere mile or two away to the labor lake of
routine, rumor and black butterfly stripper drama
converging like vultures on my normalcy
like a curse against my shade shelter in their pain, fear and
excuses full of tears and selfish reasons why it
isn’t possible to comply but rather blame because it
must all be compartmentalized somewhere
But before this all began I was there with you
just a minuscule in distress moment
with your loquacious pitter patter chatter wisdom
of easy words raining down on the middle of my poor English
Switching me back on electric like I had a circuit into
where I thought I once knew you

Written by Sara Fielder © Sept 2015