The Blueprint

The blueprint marked the plan of her life. Just like an architect she was, she constructed it perfectly Drawing it to the very detail she wanted it to be. Ink dripping, paper raffling, on to work she was. As others slept, she kept burning the midnight oil in the attic where the sound was below ten decibels. The blueprint contained segments and blocks. Each segment was partitioned by a pathway, demystifying a phase of life she had. Armed with a compass she placed it on top perhaps a clear signal the direction she wanted her life to take. Shapes were drawn, lines crossed and figures inserted between columns and rows. To her advantage, she wasn’t in the 70s for she would have to wait for the canvas to dry up. A peculiar picture struck my mind upon seeing her work, "a bridge “was it a message or a phrase “we’ll cross the bridge when we get there?