12 April

She put on her armour but left off the painted visor.
She opened, closed, and locked the front door as silently as possible.
For whoms benefit she was not sure.

She looks at the græy sky and thinks of his eyes.
She wonders about rain and sun and walks and shoes.
And thinks of his brogues.
Then his ankles.
Then his bluə-græy sky eyes.

Her eyes go round like looking mirror pools.
Her eyes go soft and shine.
She feels her eyelid muscles making expressions she cannot make herself. caNNot on cue.

A neighbor opens their door and a dog bounds to her. Tail wagging.
She relunctantly relieves herself of her reverie.
And pulls her eyes sharp.

Author: writtencasey

I am fascinated by the scientific endeavor and I read about or engage with those processes as much as possible. I am a compulsive reader and writer. With a background in anthropology and as an arm-chair/backyard scientist, I hope to improve my writing skills and learn about any areas of weakness or misunderstanding in my analytic skills. I am excited to share. Thank you for spending time here. Please reach out if you are so inclined. I'd be excited to hear from you. View all posts by writtencasey