{Prompt: Imagine that you are watching someone and they do not know you're watching. Let the description tell the story or make the point.}
A woman,
age twenty-three,
sits down on a squeaky bench.
She pulls out a sandwich,
folds a napkin on her lap,
and opens the plastic bag.
The wind picks up,
blowing a soft tune through her hair
Until the sound grazes her eardrums.
She stops in her tracks, the sandwich inches away from her face
But then, she suddenly pulls back.
The hand which she held her sandwich with
falls down to her lap
though her grip is still tight
as if it may blow away with the wind.
Her soft little brown eyes and eyelashes
flutter close.
She cups a hand around her ear, listening to the notes
the wind begins to play.
Violins,
Cellos,
Harps,
even a Piano.
The conductor cloud turns the pages as it sweeps
by the velvet
sky
A flute flutters in her ear, causing her eyes to awaken
Until they meet a fine bird, perched on her delicate finger
A bright bluejay
One with a chest puffed out
Her lips form into a small smile,
Her eyes gleaming with joy,
Once again she closes her eyes and listens
Listens to the symphony of wind.
Soon enough,
the Bluejay's wind pipes play, similar to the tune of the flute
The woman of twenty-three joins in as well
Humming the same tune
And soon enough, as the wind picks up again
then both join the symphony, in tune.
YOU ARE READING
Star Struck
PoetryThis is a little collection of poems I've made. Not sure how long I'll continue it, but I'll make a few. {Completed! There's a sequel book if you'd like to read it, the sequel is called "Milky Way"} Note: This was called "Book of Poems" previously...
