Dove-white fur
open eyes wide as can be
no one knows, no one sees
tailored to pull love from the heart, eyes like a new born baby
Lured in by the gaze
observing every move I make
outstretched arms, waiting..
knocking on the door of my mind, even after time has passed, eyes like those are not forgotten
Brain, in need of cleaning
Sleepy eyes, already dreaming
What is this self created pressure?
Had in head, cross body, to the edges of such a being.
What comes as a result?
The creation had is to be, with joy
This mind is in need of a slow walk
A walk on the side
Eyes looking up at the sky
Enjoying the passing time
All of the words shared are starting to sound the same, what a shame.
I blame this pressure.
I blame the eyes locked on clocks, the ticking hands luring me in to watch.
It is time for dancing in the wind
Soaking in the rain
Watching the birds fly by.
Watching someone that normally doesn’t run, suddenly sprint forward, is terrifying.
The creaking of the settling wood is chilling.
This room misses the sun, it is now quite cold.
Time passing, what’s new will be old.
It never changes, but then it does.
A complete contradiction in varying ways.
The numbers matter oh so much to me, though I loop myself in circles in my attempts to prolong the life.
Both running it dry and watering it down at the same time.
I suppose the lemon well does flow, but if locals are standing with buckets to fill, it can also appear as being near empty.
Enjoy it when it feels right, and when it doesn’t, take note of why it feels wrong.
This is still quite new; breaking in shoes takes time.
When it flows freely, it feels the best, though this mind, heart, and body enjoys the planning sometimes too; I will begin training these feet to stand on ropes, and walk forward with grace.
It has to be fun.
It HAS to be FUN.
Squeeze the lemon, collect the juice; in the trouble, with tired hands, sitting on the land drinking what has been collected, that joy and pride will exist within.
I often forget this, especially when my mind is scrambled.
I forget the defined areas of this space.
The ability to mix colours.
The possibilities that greets me in having a blank space.
Length is not always a determining factor of quality, but boy does it have its hold on me.
I forget to embrace the grime, the varying bowls of soup, as well as everything that brings me comfort in my waking hours.
I feel as though these moments remind me of such quite well.
Here’s to boxing up the counter and putting it in storage until it is really needed.
Here’s to resting and finding pleasure in what is had, what is done.
Now, I shall sit in the comfy places, and enjoy a nice big plate of my scramble.
The stress brings the good to light, and these hands are holding on tight.
Well day!
Be well inside yourselves and all around.
LennysLung 
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