Braid

He was lost to bird songs drowning out the morning traffic as her face came into

view. How lovely she looked all sleepy groggy, her hair had fallen from the loose braid. The braid was new for her hair hadn’t reached a length before. She was very pleased. They sat together close and both took on the sounds of birds around them, lost in the moment. It was only when the sun broke through the clouds and hit the cedars bright yellow that he looked across the table and found he was alone. But he was happy knowing she was sound asleep because she was still there with him. In an hour or so she would pull away for the day and he wouldn’t see her until he came home later that night after his shift. A day where they couldn't write or be creative and this saddened him.

There was a time, a short time when they first met when she was truly herself and he was no where to be seen. She soared in art and writing, felt so free with herself and him. And in her freedom and her exploring she brought him to the surface. She drew him out of the years of doubt and discontent. She let him see beauty and love. Then she brought him to her home and they lived there. He tied a loose braid around the doorknob so when he left separate, when she had already left for the day he could touch her hair just one more time.

He was startled by the alarm clock ring . The bath water roared, the day began.

And they will work and find the time to be themselves, no no, really who they are without the construct of a formatted day before them even for just a few moments. They will sing like birds drowning out traffic.