Trapped in the blur

As it goes, moments

move and I ride through the breeze

only to wonder

The… my anchor waits

f l o a t i n g beyond my reach there.

It teases me, on.

But no laughter comes.

The swirl flows, with no answers.

The wait is too long.

My place, unknown, still

tested by Hope, Fear…Silence…

Then…

eyes close. Breeze returns.

Paula Antonello, Prose. Copyright: Tuesday, June 9, 2021.

Image: In the Blur, by P.Antonello.