Mind Chatter

Look around you, no look up. What do you see? Actually, what aren't you seeing? Was that a bird flying past or just a projection of what your mind was racing past? If I were to ask you one question what would your answer to that be? I've lived a long and fulfilled life that had few takers and some givers who contributed to making it what it has become today. People narrate stories, some their own and some that belong to others. We treasure our chest of tales that nestle themselves on our tongues and run off into a single path as in the woods; one that's untreaded and then this monologue echoes into the far horizon from where another friendly folk picks up where you left off and narrates this mixed fabric that's sewn ever so slightly different from what you wore the previous day.

The Despicable Yawn

"Darling, would you like me to pour you some wine?" he asked, as they seated themselves at the porch. At a distance from cottage number seven the horizon blurred out, giving way to constellations and silver waves breaking at shore. A seemingly friendly yet forlorn set of white linen and lanterns nearby set the stage for music that came alive. With a gaping yawn and quick shiver from the chill, "Yes of course, dear." answered she. His eyes rolled and with deep pain he retorted, "Again? You'd promised me you wouldn't." A fallen face later, he asked, "Was it the wine? Please don't tell me it was the wine." Her unsettled self took another hurried sip and said, "I promise I won't do it again!". "But you just did!", said he. "You know I love you more than I love my wine"; the words instinctively tumbled out. His face morphed into a mix of confusion and delight, as he shuffled in his seat attempting to scour out responses from the back of his brain; there were none. He smiled and a quick peck echoed the instant as the distant ringing of the village postmaster's bell.