Creative Flow

I wrote this in a flow of creativity.

---

The window.
She reaches for the phone again,

stiffly pushing back the tears
from her eye.

She's thinking about what she'll do
once the lights come on.

A new day?
She doesn't want to have to do this.

The sound of the car horns
chasing the breeze.

A girl at work is talking to
her grandson. Her hair

glides in and out the light.
The rain has stopped.

The child's little face
on my arm.

After so many years
the words "new year's eve"
still stick.

She asks if I'm ready for this.
I take my coat off.
A cold rain.

It feels wrong. Maybe not my fault.

Her scent
in the kitchen of the inn.

I am a stranger in my mother's home.
Her scent.

My cousin's wedding dress.
The redhead's red hair.

A few hours later
the kitchen door opens.

I hear her voice.
Before dawn

A cat looks at me.
A cat stands at the bar.

---

xx livelovewrite