Lost in thought is where you can find her. People often say
she thinks too much, brooding over matters only to bring worry and indigestion...
Late at night, wilted and weary from the quiet inner reeling, she sits cross-legged on the sofa chair. The lamps incandescent glow envelopes her like an evening shawl...
She holds her face in her hands. The pulse of her temples runs through her fingertips. Thump…thump…thump….
A soft sigh escapes, but not much else. The nomadic dreams she awoke from this morning are drifting back to mind. She slowly rubs her face, then cups her chin. The hum from the refrigerator drones on. She looks forward to sleep, allowing the night to speak...
The looming obscurity awaits its acknowledgement. Through dreams she hopes of finding peace in facing what could be seen as darkness. She questions in silence, "What will it be tonight?" Might what she has overlooked today discover her behind closed lids and an arm draped over her forehead? If no one else can unveil her, perhaps she can unearth herself whilst sleeping...
Late at night, wilted and weary from the quiet inner reeling, she sits cross-legged on the sofa chair. The lamps incandescent glow envelopes her like an evening shawl...
She holds her face in her hands. The pulse of her temples runs through her fingertips. Thump…thump…thump….
A soft sigh escapes, but not much else. The nomadic dreams she awoke from this morning are drifting back to mind. She slowly rubs her face, then cups her chin. The hum from the refrigerator drones on. She looks forward to sleep, allowing the night to speak...
The looming obscurity awaits its acknowledgement. Through dreams she hopes of finding peace in facing what could be seen as darkness. She questions in silence, "What will it be tonight?" Might what she has overlooked today discover her behind closed lids and an arm draped over her forehead? If no one else can unveil her, perhaps she can unearth herself whilst sleeping...
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| Photo by Emiko Hall |
