Unrooted.

The silence slaps the sweet smile from my face.

Two dimples disappear and my eyes go wide and watery like reflecting pools.

It was expected, knowing the routine.

Like my cheekbones slipping softly against your inner thighs.

I return of my own volition.

I am into repetition. Can ya tell?

A cassette played and then rewound, to be as the stabilizing soundscape to enhance feeling and gift a smile,

but cared for and never unspooled.

After doing the same action, ten times,

the action becomes anew,

because we extend the potential through practice.

Carrying wood.

Ritualization.

Not new, but still true. Reposted

Like an aged letter.

I am soft today.

Wide-eyed in hope and a hint of previous hurt.

An open vessel never being vacuous.

I embrace it,

whispering in a whimper: hey, let me in.

A Tea Party for your sobering Psychopomp.

Vamp for me, wild thing.

I will howl out the accompaniment to your movements.

The accompaniment as the autumnal ewe fades away,

but before the howling winds of this

fall remove all the leaves from your limbs

And leave You exposed to face the winter

Unrooted.