Puddle Written by COFFEEEUROPE Well, I don’t know much about dreams and realities, root of this watery limbo perhaps, but I can tell you about puddles. No, don’t roll your eyes just yet, I’m with you, sound a bit fishy, and its just as wet I assure you. So, what’s this puddle like? Its a breath of life… literally. I just take one drag … and then I’m there. If you are ever in a puddle you’d know… you just wouldn’t tell yourself. The water is stagnant but your step is flowing. You know you’re not getting anywhere, but you walk on anyway. This is the oasis of dreams. This is time’s retreat. Here the great comes to dream, but the dreamer comes to die. I’d run from such unfortunate fate; I mean wouldn’t you? But since I’m here I think I’d rather dream. My name is Trof Eladredual. How’s that for a pen name? Recently thirtieth… …hate dust bunnies… …never hit the sack before sunrise… …love the sunrise… …and a big mug of the strongest java… …that’s when I write… …I’m a writer… …no big story to tell… … I’m in a puddle… … I know I’m in a puddle… …I just don’t tell myself… …when I have a story to tell… …I’ll go mail it myself…. …until then… … I think I’d rather dream. I died today. No, it wasn’t cancerous intake… or the puddle. It was moving traffic. As I crossed the street to mail my story, a moving bus put an end to my lingering step. A brief moment in a puddle can be a whole lifetime. ---------- youtu.be/connL8w1jvo?t=22m28s
Posted on: Wed, 20 Aug 2014 09:14:17 +0000
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