As She Lit the Candle

She lit the candle in evening’s repose then held the pages bound and decorated in story-fabled paper coverings. She buried her head in the words of others. Arms outstretched and folded on a pillow, she tightly held a lifetime of explanation. As she opened each page of wishful longings her thoughts drifted into unknown yet sometimes familiar places. She buried her head in the words of others. Devouring and mouthing each line- foraging like a hungry child starved from intangible imaginings. Imbued along the infinite road of her freedom her head kept filling with vestiges of rolling oceans and dire deserts- of tawny forest and snow covered peaks. She buried her head in the words of others- hiding in the jungles of Borneo- riding black stallions over the plains of Africa- awaiting the earthrise from craters on the moon- listening to the city of a million people contemplated in the dulcet tones of Miles Davis’ trumpet. She buried her head in the words of others- entombed in a poet’s lyric read aloud turning the pages that fell across her heart. She swallowed each wonderment within- filling an empty cupboard of feelings like the moon melting in a rainstorm….. Phhhhhhhhhh! Tired and inspired she blew the candle out