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…
eyes close. Breeze returns.
Paula Antonello, Prose. Copyright: Tuesday, June 9, 2021.
Image: In the Blur, by P.Antonello.