My finger traces the images in the black and white photos.
I feel as if my life belongs in the sepia tones and sun bleached pictures I never knew.
I feel as though a part of me was born in a captured moment where I cannot return.
In each of the decades I have lived, none have felt like my time.
I would love to reach back in time to touch a world I have never known.
Flip through different summers and evenings long forgotten.
I wear a memento of a time I never knew.
The vintage necklace I wear is a reminder of the past that remains and will be full of, “what if’s?”
Antique bottles rest along my window sill, splitting the pane a million-fold.
The light dances off the colors and reflects a painting upon my wall.
I hear the gentle tick that echoes from my old rusty clock.
It sings of a simplistic moment of time.
The tic-tic-tic’ing helps me close my eyes as I take a sip of tea.
I relish it’s flourish of cream and lace of honey.
I pull my blanket closer as I think of a world of lace.
One of heavy, beautiful keys, birdcages and pearls.
I want to paint, then smudge, blur all the lines.
That way only I could understand the outlines.
As time goes by I wonder what heaven will be like.
For me it would be a summer, no a winter moonlight walk in 1920’s Paris.
I want to dip my fingers in time and twist, twirl the images together.
Pull out an image of a time that I have now created.
In that moment I would be a sophisticated Lady of the Victorian era.
Then as I slip off my lilac dress, I become a huntress.
I am a confident, outspoken soul.
However I still seek to find myself and want others to see me for who I am.
I want to find that promise out there, a moment of love.
The kiss of the past that I long for in the present.
Until then I am just a woman stepping on the stars at night.
Trying to find my way to the soul who will ground me.