Drabble #50 – Hot, Top, Flight (Boy I’m out of sight)
My toes are curling against the worn, chapped leather of your soles and I’m wondering what roads you have traveled for them to be so weathered. I’m sure if I walked across the moon, I would feel you in the dust beneath me, breathe you in with the stars like little candied bursts painting the universe on my lungs. Well, I too have been plucked like the strings of a fiddle. I have been strum to the beat of someone else’s heart all along. And we're walking down this path and the treetops are howling and I’m thinking… maybe that’s not so bad.